


Fools Like Us

by sayaleigh



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Depression, Graduation, High School, Human, M/M, Multi, Terminal Illnesses, Volunteer Work, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 46,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayaleigh/pseuds/sayaleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human AU. What starts out as a normal Friday night for the "Bad Touch Trio" soon becomes an opportunity for Francis to use his favorite word in reference to his best friends. Unfortunately, Gilbert and Antonio couldn't possibly have fallen for people who would return their feelings easily, but Francis is determined to help them out despite his own relationship-or lack thereof.  Spamano, PruAus, France/Jeanne d'Arc</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beware the Danger

**Author's Note:**

> Finally posting my first Hetalia fic! This one has a few chapters in reserve, so hopefully there won't be a long hiatus like Abandoned Driveways had. Also, I actually have a beta on this and time to edit, but if you notice any spelling/grammar errors or inconsistencies, please let me know!
> 
> This is Spamano, PruAus, and France/Jeanne d'Arc with background/implied other pairings. Human AU. Title comes from "Fools Like Me" by Vanessa Carlton and the chapter titles are the lyrics.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or "Fools Like Me".

1-Beware the Danger

"You can't do that! Ach! Toni, you bastard!" scowled Gilbert Beilschmidt, leaning to the side as if it would help him guide his virtual car around the bright yellow one that had cut him off.

"No? But the game let me do it," Antonio Fernandez defended himself, frowning at the game as if it had lied to him.

"It's just common decency!" Gilbert snapped back even as his own red-and-black car attempted to nudge Antonio's off the road on the screen.

Behind them, the third friend rolled his eyes and swept his long blond hair away from his face. "Mes amis, I think you've been playing that game too long. We're all going to die of starvation if you don't order something, Antonio. And Gilbert, you have no decency, common or otherwise."

Gilbert stuck his tongue out at Francis Bonnefoy for his comments, but it quickly turned into a pout as Antonio followed Francis' advice and paused the game. Antonio ignored him, searching through the pillows spread out on the floor around them for his phone. He finally located it and hit the fourth number on his speed-dial-the pizza place down the street.

While he ordered, Francis and Gilbert located their own phones and checked through their messages. The three had been holed up in Antonio's house all afternoon since his parents were out of town. Francis had said something about throwing a party, but in the end, they spent the night like every other weekend, playing video games in Antonio's basement. Gilbert, as always, was a sore loser.

Gilbert flipped through his texts lazily. There were several from his overprotective younger brother, mostly about whether the trio was going to actually get a decent meal that night, when Gilbert would be home, and other pedantic details that Gilbert didn't care much for. He did send one text back to soothe Ludwig's nerves, however. The other texts he ignored, deeming the people who had sent them to be less awesome than the two he was already with. They were mostly about homework anyway, and Gilbert never troubled himself much with things like that.

Francis, meanwhile, had surprisingly few texts. He preferred to use his phone only for those close to him, though his email was open to anyone and everyone and was connected to his phone through one of several apps. He scrolled through the emails, but decided they could wait until he left or the others went back to the game. His philosophy had always been that the people he was with deserved all his attention. He took the time to reply to his mother and his friend Jeanne, then tucked the device back into his pocket.

Simultaneously, the three flopped back onto the couch. Without looking at either of his friends, Antonio suddenly asked, "Do either of you ever get tired of doing the same thing every weekend?"

"What? No way!" Gilbert declared, sitting up to give Antonio an incredulous look. His eyes betrayed him, however. They darted around the small, dark room, restless and dissatisfied.

"Of course," Francis answered simply, twirling his long hair around his index finger. He didn't mind being with his friends, of course, but he did wish they could find a new activity every once in a while.

They lapsed back into their own silent thoughts. Gilbert fiddled with the controller he still held, but the TV was turned off.

The silence continued until the bell rang, signaling the arrival of the pizza. Gilbert jumped up to answer it while the other two trailed behind him, Antonio searching through his pockets for his wallet.

Gilbert flung the door open hard enough that it bounced against the wall, coming back in a valiant attempt to crush Francis, who stopped it with a slender, pale hand. Antonio peered around Gilbert to see the pizza boy, his eyes widening as they took in the sight.

The boy was shorter than the trio, and his terrible posture caused him to appear even shorter. He had soft-looking, straight, dark red-brown hair and vibrant, challenging hazel eyes. His skin was tan and perfect, a rosy tint coloring his cheeks. His face was petulant and feminine, and the look he fixed the trio suggested he wanted nothing more than to go home for the night.

"Nice to see you, Lovino," Francis spoke suddenly, drawing Antonio's attention. The blond was watching the pizza boy with a fond expression, recognition and familiarity clear in his crystalline blue eyes. Francis knew a lot of people, but Antonio couldn't help but be especially curious as to how he knew this particular character.

"Che, of course I'd have to see you," the newcomer retorted, any possibility of a friendly, customer-facing demeanor dissolving with the mutual recognition.

Gilbert, on the other hand, wasn't watching the exchange. He didn't even seem to be listening. Instead, he was leaning out the door, staring intently at the house next door. Antonio didn't know his neighbors particularly well, but he'd heard that the girl had been childhood friends with Gilbert.

Tonight, however, Gilbert's attention wasn't focused on her. Instead, he was staring at the figure standing on the front porch with her. The two were looking up at the stars, Elizaveta pointing out constellations to her new stepbrother.

It was the stepbrother, Roderich, that Gilbert found his eyes drawn to. The boy was a few inches shorter than him and had a delicate build. Their shared gym class had informed Gilbert that he tired easily, but there were rumors that he was an excellent pianist. Despite his own feminine appearance, girls flocked to Roderich no matter what he did.

Gilbert had only met the boy when he and Elizaveta had moved in next to Antonio with their newly-married parents a few months back. He and Liza had picked up their old friendship right where they'd left off, but he couldn't seem to reconcile her brother into the equation. The third party added tension to the relationship and Gilbert still wasn't sure how he felt about the kid. Making up his mind, he left his friends with the pizza boy and began marching across the space between Antonio's house and the one next door.

"Gilbert?" Francis asked as the albino slipped away from them. He pushed out past Lovino to watch Gilbert move away, watching over him like a mother hen.

Lovino cleared his throat, frowning up at Antonio. Antonio offered a bright smile. He recognized Lovino now; the younger boy was in one of his classes, but he mostly kept to himself.

Instead of returning the smile, Lovino scowled at him suspiciously. "Are you going to pay, or are we going to stand here all night?"

Antonio blinked, suddenly remembering why the other was there. He'd been so fascinated by him that he'd managed to forget the reason for his presence. "Oh, sure," he laughed, reaching for his wallet, "Your name is Lovino, right?"

"What gave that away?" Lovino retorted sarcastically, "Surely not my nametag. Or my idiot cousin." Francis frowned over his shoulder at the remark, faking a deeply hurt demeanor.

Antonio chuckled, finding himself drawn in by the fiery personality and the gorgeous, flashing eyes. "I'm Antonio," he told the other, "I think we have History together."

Lovino rolled his eyes, but the way his lips tightened into a thin line suggested he had realized where Antonio was going with this line of conversation. "Fantastic, let's be buddies and trade notes in class," he snorted sarcastically, "Or not. I like that option. Now, will you fucking pay me so I can get out of here?"

Flinching slightly at the tone, Antonio handed over a twenty and tried one last time. "I can give you my number if you want to get together sometime and work-"

"No." Lovino cut him off flatly, glaring at Antonio as he tucked the money into the designated bag he carried and began to sort out his change.

"Ah, but Lovino," Francis began, turning to face them with a grand gesture, "Why would you ever try to escape the beauty of young lo-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Lovino snapped, cutting his cousin off as his cheeks flared bright red. He turned without another word, stomping down the steps of the porch. His shoulders were tense, and he didn't look back as he slipped into his car and drove away. Antonio frowned at the taillights until they turned the corner and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was oblivious to the scene unfolding behind him. When he was close enough to the other house, he called out to get Elizaveta and Roderich's attention.

Elizaveta looked surprised to see him, though there weren't many other places he could be found on a Friday night other than Antonio's house. Once the surprise wore off, she smiled brightly and swept her long brown hair over one shoulder.

Roderich, on the other hand, turned his nose up at the lower-class boy. He turned away to fiddle with his phone, leaving his stepsister to deal with the albino nuisance. He'd never admit it, but he couldn't help but fear that even the slightest interaction would be the first step to giving away everything he'd spent years hiding from his prim and proper mother. She was usually very accepting, but Roderich couldn't help but fear that one day he would overstep even her boundaries.

"What are you doing over here?" Elizaveta asked curiously, leaning against the porch railing to peer down at Gilbert.

"I wondered what you and the sissy-boy found so interesting up there," Gilbert replied nonchalantly, gesturing vaguely up at the sky, "Haven't seen any UFOs, have you?"

Roderich's shoulders stiffened at the nickname, but he refused to turn. Elizaveta rolled her eyes and sighed. "Gil," she began warningly.

Before Gilbert could continue his teasing or Elizaveta could continue her reprimanding, Francis' voice called out from behind Gilbert, "Hey, quit bullying them and come eat."

Gilbert scowled but starting to turn, giving Elizaveta a short wave. He stopped suddenly, as if he'd forgotten something.

"Hey, Roddy," he called, waiting until the brunet reluctantly turned around before he continued, "Try not to think about me too much tonight!" He accompanied the comment with a waggle of his pale brows, smirking at the blush it brought to the other boy's face.

"Your vulgarity is not amusing," Roderich mumbled in a tone Gilbert was sure he had intended to be reprimanding. Unfortunately, the blush and obvious discomfort took away from the effect. Feeling smug, Gilbert turned and ran back to Antonio's place, jumping over the steps and catching the door that Francis held open for him.

Glancing back before he disappeared into the depths of the house, he caught Roderich's brilliant violet eyes. Feeling pleased with the effect he was clearly having on the stuffy prick, he smirked widely in return.

Having watched both exchanges, Francis smiled fondly to himself. He was always pleased to see the seeds of love being planted and couldn't help the urge to help them along. He waited until Gilbert and Antonio had both turned their backs, then quickly slipped his phone from his pocket.

They grow up so fast, don't they? he typed, hitting send before the others could catch him.

Moments later, his phone vibrated with a reply. What are you talking about? read the innocent message.

Gil and Toni are in loooove~ Francis sent back, feeling giddy at the idea of finally being able to use his favorite word in reference to his best friends.

When it came, Jeanne's reply got straight to the point. Tell me everything. How much help are they going to need?


	2. It Lurks For Those Who Get Swept Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spamano-centric chapter. In which Antonio meets Lovino's brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Saya's actually getting things posted on time? I know, it's shocking. I guess this is what happens when I try to avoid my real life problems, no?  
> Thanks to ShippingEverything for the comment!
> 
> My beta didn't get a chance to read over this chapter, so if you notice anything funky, please tell me! Enjoy~!

Antonio frowned at the dusty spines of the books on the shelf in front of him. He couldn't seem to find the book that had been assigned for his class. He was wondering if someone else had already gotten to the copies the library had when he rounded the corner to find a welcome sight.

A boy was sitting alone at the tables, the sun glinting off his dark red-brown hair in soft halo. His beautiful hazel eyes were narrowed at his books and he was gnawing on his lower lip. He tapped his eraser lightly against his papers in time to the bouncing of his feet.

Antonio learned against the bookshelf, taking advantage of a moment when the younger wasn't glaring at him. A tiny smile passed across his lips. Finally, he took the few last steps into the clearing between the shelves, revealing himself to the younger boy.

Lovino's head snapped up, his eyes wide. His hair was tousled from where he'd been running his fingers through it as he worked. A stray lock clung to the side of his face, accentuating the full curve of his cheeks. Antonio's heart fluttered at the disheveled beauty before him.

"¡Buenos días!" he greeted cheerfully, raising one hand in a tiny wave. He smiled fondly at the other, hoping the positive expression would smooth over the shocked one the other still wore.

Instead, Lovino's features morphed into a scowl. "What the hell do you want?" he demanded. His fingers twitched as if he was tempted to grab up all his books and leave the room before Antonio even had the chance to respond.

"Well, I came to the library looking for a book," the Spaniard told him honestly, "but I found you instead! Isn't that a great turn of events?"

"Hardly," Lovino snorted. He sat back moodily in the uncomfortable wooden chair, glaring at everything except Antonio.

Throwing caution to the wind, Antonio pulled out the seat across from Lovino and sat. The Italian watched him suspiciously, but refrained from speaking. Antonio pulled the papers across to himself, looking over them to see that it was homework for the one class they had together. Lovino was apparently having trouble with it, which, luckily for Antonio, gave them a reason to see each other more often.

He opened his mouth to offer his assistance again, but Lovino snatched the papers back before he could manage the first syllable. The younger boy's cheeks flared a bright, almost unnatural red, and he had Antonio fixed with the most malicious glare the older brunet had ever seen.

"If you wanted to work on that sometime-" he began, but Lovino cut him off with a snarl.

"No, I don't, you stupid bastard," he growled, "I can do it just fine on my own; I don't need anyone's help."

Antonio watched silently as Lovino swept everything off the table and into his bag, his cheeks still tinted with a deep pink. Once all the papers had been contained the Italian stormed off, and after a moment's hesitation, Antonio followed.

Lovino glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes when he saw that the taller boy was right on his heels. He stopped and turned, glaring up at the other.

"What the hell is your problem?" he snarled, his accent becoming stronger with his anger. He wasn't used to being the center of anyone's attention, especially not that of an attractive, nosy bastard he heard the ladies gossiping about constantly. He had absolutely no intention of associating with Antonio. For one, he would only be reminded daily that his friends and his brother were better looking than he was, and his ego was sensitive enough as it was.

Antonio blinked at him, looking innocently confused.

"No problem," Antonio told him easily, "I just think we should spend time together." He flashed a bright smile at Lovino, but it only darkened the Italian's expression.

"Bullshit," Lovino grumbled. He flipped Antonio off and turned to walk away again, hoping the Spaniard wouldn't follow. As usual, luck was not with him, and another set of footsteps was quick to follow his own.

He was considering his options for ditching the other when an all too familiar voice called out for his attention. He groaned, his heart sinking, and reluctantly turned to face his brother. Feliciano was skipping up the hallway towards him, dragging his boyfriend, Ludwig, behind him. The German looked about as excited about their impending reunion as Lovino was.

Antonio looked curiously between Lovino and the almost identical boy charging up the hall toward them. He recognized the blond in tow as Gilbert's brother, but he wasn't familiar with the newcomer. Still, he flashed a bright smile. If he had anything to do with Lovino, he figured it was better to make a good impression.

"Ciao," the newcomer gasped out as he reached them, grinning, "Lovino, who's this?"

Lovino rolled his eyes at his brother's curiosity, though he supposed he couldn't blame him. "Some idiot friend of Francis'. Why do you always have to bring that potato bastard everywhere you go?"

Feliciano ignored Lovino's familiar complaining and turned to the taller brunet. His eyes sparkled with curiosity about this person who seemed more than willing to brave his brother's constant bad temper. "Hi," he chirped, "I'm Feliciano, Lovino's brother. Who are you?"

"Hola, Feli," the other smiled brightly, "My name is Antonio."

Antonio extended his hand to shake Feliciano's, but the small Italian brushed it aside and threw his arms around Antonio instead. The Spaniard figured it was just a part of his bubbly personality until a low voice in his ear whispered, "Good luck getting through to Lovi. You like him, si?"

Antonio nodded, gazing fondly over Feliciano's shoulder at the back of Lovino's head. Satisfied, Feliciano released him.

"How are you, Antonio?" Ludwig asked. His tone was characteristically stiff and formal, but the smile that crossed his features was warm and familiar.

Antonio grinned brightly at his best friend's younger brother. "I'm great, Lud! ¿Y tu?" he practically sang.

Ludwig nodded in response, blushing slightly as he glanced at Feliciano. The younger had returned to pestering his brother once he had released Antonio, but, as if he felt eyes on him, he glanced up and smiled at Ludwig, his golden-brown eyes lighting up with warmth that Antonio recognized from association rather than experience. Francis would have swooned at the sight of it.

Lovino looked back and forth between the group, frowning at the happiness and smiles going around. His brow furrowed with frustration. Finally, growling to himself, he stomped his foot and turned away from the group.

"Hey-Lovi!" Antonio called after him. Loud, quick footsteps quickly followed, and a glance over his shoulder told Lovino that they belonged to his brother rather than the Spaniard. Antonio and Ludwig stayed in place, watching quizzically as Feliciano chased his brother down. Heaving a sigh, Lovino slowed and waited for Feliciano to catch up with him.

"Hey, fratello," Feliciano began innocently, "What's up with you? Why would you just leave your friend like that?"

Lovino growled to himself under his breath. "He's not my friend," he tried to explain, though Feliciano's expression told him the other wasn't buying it, "He's just some creep who likes to follow me around."

Feliciano giggled, a sound that never sat well with Lovino. "That's what Luddy thought about me at first," the younger teased, his warm brown eyes dancing with mischief.

"Well, you and that Spanish bastard should get along just fine," Lovino retorted, "Seeing as that's what you are. Both of you."

Feliciano gave him a patronizing smile, bringing another scowl to Lovino's lips. "'Vino," Feliciano began softly in a tone that was both gentle and quietly questioning, "Why do you try to push everyone away? If you would smile more, you would have so many friends!"

Lovino's scowl deepened. "I don't need your positive crap. Smiling is for idiots like you and that jerk," he snapped, gesturing wildly back at the Spaniard, who smiled and waved.

Feliciano frowned regretfully at his brother's reaction, but the damage had been done. Lovino turned and stormed off again, and this time, Feliciano didn't follow him. The older Italian could feel the familiar prick of tears threatening, but he pushed them away like he always did. If he cried every time someone or something suggested his brother's superiority, he would be suffering from dehydration by now. Instead, he resisted the urge and slipped into an empty classroom to compose himself before he had to return to face the world and his next class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who reviewed last time! I reply to all of them so it's totally worth doing, especially if there's something you want to see in this!
> 
> You can also talk to me or request drabbles on tumbr (ne-ne-spoopy-assbutt at the moment).


	3. The Dreamers Get Punished Most By the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Jeanne have a day to themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's late but at least it's up!
> 
> I'm just really glad that I already had this done...I've been really busy with work lately and I'm actually exhausted and under the influence of a sleeping pill right now because I have the opening shift tomorrow and really need to sleep...
> 
> In other words, I should get on with it and let you read, no?

Francis frowned up at the pristine white outer walls of the hospital. He wasn't particularly fond of the place, but he spent more than his fair share of time here. He might have despised it less if he didn't feel as if it was holding one of his best friends captive.

"Are you okay?" asked Antonio softly from his side. The energetic Spaniard was unusually subdued, his eyes bright and honest as he watched Francis. A tentative, reassuring hand on Francis' shoulder gave a blond an emotional boost and he finally nodded, a small smile twisting the corners of his lips.

On his other side, Gilbert was equally solemn. His pale lips were pressed together in a tight frown and there was a look of discomfort in his ruby eyes. He'd had a few medical problems as a child and had his own reasons for hating hospitals, so his presence meant more to Francis than either of them would acknowledge.

Finally, Francis took a deep breath and forced a smile. Then, with every inch of him screaming to run in the other direction, he forced himself to begin the seemingly too long path up to the double doors of the hospital.

They slid open soundlessly as the trio approached. The nurses at the desk looked up. They recognized the boys, smiled in greeting, and returned to whatever various projects they had been working on.

With Francis leading the way, the three began their familiar trek through the winding, seemingly endless hallways until they reached one of the hundreds of nondescript doors. A tiny plaque on the wall next to the door read, in pristine, clinical white letters, "Arc, Jeanne."

With only a moment's hesitation, Francis raised his fist and knocked lightly on the door. A female voice answered from the other side, granting them permission to enter. They followed through quickly, smiling at the sight of their friend sitting up in her bed, smiling brightly back at them.

"Bonjour, ma chérie," Francis greeted in perfect French, bringing a warm smile to Jeanne's pale, thin lips.

She looked worse than usual, but seeing her sitting up was a welcome change. Her short, blonde hair was dull and mussed from the pillow, but it poofed around her head like a golden halo-a suitable image for the pure-hearted teenager. Her cheeks were hollow and there was a visible clamminess to her skin, but even that couldn't take away from her simple beauty.

"Francis," she greeted simply, leaning forward as though drawn in by his presence. She nodded in greeting to the other two, and they returned the gesture. Her attention quickly returned to the young man who shared her culture, however, and his friends backed inconspicuously from the room.

"How have you been?" Francis asked softly, as if he hadn't been to see her several times in the last week and texted her constantly the rest of the time.

Jeanne laughed, a light, bell-like sound that sent a rush of warmth through her companion.

"Don't play dumb," she chided, never one to play to the whims of others in conversation, "You know the answer to that."

Francis' cheeks warmed at the spirited retort, but he let it slide and perched on the edge of the narrow, pristine bed.

"What about you?" she asked when a comfortable silence had reigned for a few long moments.

Francis' bright blue eyes lit up, and he leaned in as if he had a secret. He practically squealed, "Gil and Toni are falling in love! Not with each other, but somehow at the same time!"

The light in Jeanne's eyes danced with mirth as she took in the information. "Are you going to tell me who they are now?" she demanded, her current, captive state making her hungry for news she usually let Francis concern himself with.

"Well," Francis began, sitting back again, "You remember Elizaveta, Gilbert's childhood friend?"

Jeanne nodded, watching Francis' face suspiciously for any sign that he was lying or making too much of a simple situation. "Yes..." she replied finally, "She just moved back to town, correct? He hasn't fallen for her, has he? I thought he wasn't interested in women."

"Non, non," Francis quickly corrected, absently waving away the notion with one hand, "He's taken an interest in her new stepbrother, Roderich Edelstein."

Jeanne let out a snort of laughter. Roderich was well known as a stuffy but talented young pianist. She wouldn't have thought a personality like that would even be worth Gilbert's attention, much less arouse the albino's interest.

"And Antonio?" she asked instead, choosing not to dwell on the situation that seemed to invite conflict.

Francis' smile turned warm and soft, the way it always did when he spoke about someone close to his heart. "Ah, Toni~" he sighed softly, "The poor boy has finally started to look at the available population, only for his innocent and misguided eyes to fall on my prickly young cousin, Lovino."

Jeanne couldn't help but frown in some confusion. She'd met Lovino only once, but to her he'd seemed the picture of a perfect gentleman.

Francis noticed her confusion and laughed softly. "Lovino tries very hard to convince himself that he only loves women. He treats them like the delicate, beautiful flowers they are, but with men he becomes the thorns. If Antonio is to win him over, it will be a long, difficult path."

Silence took over for a moment as Jeanne tried to reconcile this new information with the sweet younger boy she'd met before and Francis seemed to be musing over the situation itself.

"If anyone can get through to Lovi, it would be Antonio," Francis finally said softly, breaking the silence.

"You think?" Jeanne asked, frowning, "He seems so...Well, he's oblivious."

Francis chuckled softly. "I think that may work to his advantage," he admitted with an easy, practiced shrug.

Jeanne laughed again. She couldn't help but find Francis' friends strange, yet somehow refreshing. They all seemed so full of life, ambition, love...all things she knew she would be losing soon.

"Jeanne?" Francis asked suddenly, apparently noticing the sudden change in her demeanor. She looked up at him and smiled at his intense, beautiful, worried expression. The expression softened into an answering smile, and the older boy reached out and took her thin hand in his large, warm ones.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his eyes fixed on her delicate fingers. The artificial light glinted off his golden hair and downy eyelashes, giving him the look of a concerned angel. Jeanne smiled to herself at the thought.

"I'm fine," she assured him, "You don't have to worry."

"Are you s-" Francis began, but the look she gave him cut him off. He sat back with a sigh instead, his bright, clear eyes sweeping over her emaciated form for a moment.

"You look better," he told her finally, his voice and face honest, "Too thin, but...stronger."

Jeanne managed to smile. Francis never sugar-coated things like everyone else, and she found it to be a welcome change. She wanted to be just as honest in return, but the fear of hurting him stayed her tongue every time she opened her mouth.

"Thanks. I'm feeling stronger too," she lied now, smiling sweetly and deceptively at him. Something in his eyes told her he didn't buy it, but he kept his mouth shut.

"So," she began, returning to their earlier topic, "have either of them made a move on the new boys in town?"

Francis snorted. "If stalking them at school counts, then yes. They both seem to have decided that that would be the best course of action."

Jeanne rolled her eyes. That was typical of the two idiots, wherever they had disappeared to.

"What about you?" she asked suddenly, finally daring to dive into a topic that made her heart shiver at the mere thought of it.

The mirth drained from Francis' face as though a valve had been opened. His mouth worked fruitlessly, but in the end, he merely stared helplessly at the girl watching him with a mixture of hope and dread.

"Jeanne," he began weakly, his voice little more than a whisper, "I can't-"

She heaved a heavy sigh, cutting him off. Her own crystalline eyes were bright with pain as she looked back at him. "I know," she admitted finally.

Silence followed, edging as close to awkward as things ever came between the two young French descendants. Their tacit agreement to never discuss their lack of resolution over mutual attraction weighed heavily on their thin shoulders. It physically hurt Jeanne to push Francis away, but she was able to do it if she reminded herself of the pain he would feel when she finally died. They were too close already, but there was nothing she could do about that at this point-or, at least, nothing she was willing to do.

Finally, she coughed lightly, breaking the silence, "Anyway, what are you planning to do to help those two lovestruck idiots?"

Francis' face lit up again, enticed by romance he could interfere with. "Lovino is my cousin, and I have connections to the music club. I'm sure I could arrange a few, ah…'chance meetings.'" He grinned at the thought.

Jeanne answered with a tiny smile of her own. "I think that's a wonderful idea," she assured him forcefully, "You'd have to run your ideas by me, of course—everyone knows women have a sixth sense about these things."

Francis grinned as if he'd just been waiting to hear her say those very words. From the bag slung over his shoulder he pulled a well-used notebook known as his "Romantic Idea Planner" and the two of them quickly fell on the project, attacking it with all the ferocity of French romantic stereotypes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the reviews so far! They really help with the whole motivation thing.


	4. They Say It's All In the Little Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino admits he needs help and Gil and Roderich turn out to have something in common.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: You should all thank my friend Anthony because he is officially in charge of bothering me until I crank out new chapters and he does his job well. So, here's the chapter I promised like three weeks ago~!
> 
> Also, not-so-fun fact: My laptop has some fun new water damage so if I seem lazy, I'm sorry. I just really don't want to edit when all my t5ypi8ng co9me3s o9u7t5 li8ke3 t5hi8s.

Lovino glared down at the paper in his hands, his hand shaking with the frustration welling up inside him. The grade glaring back at him from the top of the page seemed to mock him, and he didn't appreciate it.

Meanwhile, a few rows over, he could see his brother waving his paper at Ludwig. Feliciano seemed to be in a good mood, and the grade on his own paper seemed to be the reason. Feliciano was lazy but smart, and Lovino was jealous. He worked twice as hard, despite his own lazy moments, and only seemed to get half the reward.

Gathering his courage, he forced his gaze up to look across the room at his new acquaintance, Antonio.

Antonio seemed just as pleased with his results as Feliciano was. He had turned around in his desk chair to face Gilbert, who sat behind him. His paper was face-up on the desk, proudly displaying a passing mark. Lovino groaned to himself as he stared at it.

After passing their tests back, their teacher continued to drone on and on about whatever topic they were supposed to be covering that day. Lovino inadvertently tuned her out, worrying too much about the grade he'd just received to pay attention to the material he'd need to know for the next. Finally, after a long internal debate and several minutes of mentally berating himself, he resolved to take Antonio up on his offer to help. The older boy may have been sort of creepy, pushy, and determined, but he could help keep Lovino from falling too far behind Feliciano in their parents' eyes. He was also attractive, which would take some of the sting out of having to ask-not that Lovino would ever so much as mention that particular opinion to the Spanish boy.

Finally the bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Lovino scrambled to pick up his things and catch up to Antonio, who was leaving the room with Gilbert. He was afraid to call out and attract everyone else's attention or that Feliciano would try to call him back, having the same effect. Luckily Feliciano was preoccupied with Ludwig, giving Lovino the chance to slip out of the room and catch Antonio by his sleeve. No one else in the room noticed his flight.

Antonio turned at the pressure, his bright green eyes widening in pleased surprise when he saw Lovino. Gilbert turned when his friend stopped, but grinned when he spotted the younger Italian and simply waved at Antonio before starting off down the hall.

"Hello, Lovi," Antonio chirped. Lovino took his bright attitude as a personal offense and scowled. He took a deep breath, reigning in his temper and pride.

Before he could speak, Antonio asked excitedly, "Are you going to ask me out?"

"N-no!" Lovino nearly shrieked without stopping to think, "You need to show me how to remember this shit!" He waved his paper in Antonio's face to indicate that he needed help without actually showing him the result.

Antonio looked slightly disappointed, but he smiled down at Lovino anyway. "So you're taking me up on my offer to help you?" he asked, his tone softer and more understanding than Lovino would have expected with his usual exuberance.

"S-something like that," Lovino admitted in a grumble.

Antonio smiled brightly and swung an arm around Lovino's shoulders. "Well, I'm free whenever you are," Antonio informed him brightly, though there was a note of simple honesty in his tone, "What about today?"

Lovino paused, actually thinking about the offer. He didn't want to seem too eager, but he also didn't want Feliciano to get any further ahead of him than he already was.

He opened his mouth to tell Antonio that the next day would be better, his pride winning over his rationality, and instead found himself saying, "Y-yeah, whatever. Today works."

He cursed himself mentally even as Antonio's face lit up like he'd just been told Christmas was coming twice this year.

"¡Fantástico! My locker is 1423; meet me there after school, okay?"

He pranced off to his next class, leaving Lovino nodding dumbly, still berating himself. He watched the cheerful brunet for a few moments before finally sighing and heading in the opposite direction.

Gilbert, meanwhile, was pushing his way toward his next class when he found himself stuck in a crowd slowly moving away from a room he spent more time screwing around in that actually working-the music room.

He scowled up at the doors. When he was on the other side, he usually ended up being told, "You'll never be a rock star and that's not the kind of music we play in here anyway get out Beilschmidt!" Needless to say, it didn't leave a very good impression. The crowd, however, was definitely of interest.

"He's so good, isn't he?" commented one girl, her blue eyes sparkling as she swept her long hair over her shoulder.

"He's incredible!" her short-haired friend agreed, "I heard he plays professionally!"

"What's he doing here then?" the first girl asked. The other shrugged and the two continued on their way. The other conversations around Gilbert came to him in bits and pieces. They were along the same lines, piquing his curiosity. He shuffled through the crowd until he reached the doors and slipped inside.

There were a few students preparing their instruments against the wall, but Gilbert could tell with a glance that they weren't the topic of conversation in the hallway. No, it had to have been Roderich, who sat at the piano. His face was serene and composed, and his long, thin fingers danced over the keys, creating a familiar, soothing tune that Gilbert couldn't place at first.

He considered striding up and throwing an arm around Roderich's shoulders, but something convinced him to wait. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, a small smirk playing across his face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" a familiar voice asked suddenly and cheerfully at his side, drawing his attention.

He looked down to see his brother's adorable boyfriend, Feliciano. He smirked at the younger boy, nodding towards Roderich. "Heard there was someone causing a stir in here. That's my job, y'know."

Feliciano frowned, not understanding Gilbert's meaning. He seemed to accept it though-according to Ludwig, that was sometimes the only way to deal with Gilbert. Feliciano went back to tuning his violin and Gilbert continued to watch the brunet at the piano.

Roderich's face was serene and composed as his long fingers raced over the keys. Gilbert had never seen his face so calm and he could feel himself relaxing in response. He knew his own class would be starting soon, but he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. He'd been feeling the stress of school and raising Ludwig quite a bit the last few weeks, but something about Roderich's playing soothed him.

"Beilschmidt! Get out of here!" the familiar, scolding voice of the choir teacher snapped at him as the bell rang. He had a broom in one hand, and Gilbert decided to avoid the possibility that it could be used on him. He'd found that the morals of teachers tended to be a bit looser when it came to chronic troublemakers.

He shot the man a wide, conciliatory grin, patting Feliciano on the head as his excuse for being in the room.

With one last glance at Roderich, whose hands had stalled, he quickly slipped out of the room.

He didn't see the brunet's head jerk up when the door closed behind him. The violet eyes were wide and conflicted, and Roderich's breath had caught in excitement.

No one else seemed nearly as interested in the albino's presence as he was. Apparently Gilbert was a constant intruder, coming in at least once a week to screw around with instruments that didn't belong to him. Roderich's heart sank, causing him to curse himself internally, and he was about to turn back to the piano when a young Italian slid onto the bench next to him.

He peered up at Roderich with curious amber eyes, and Roderich simply blinked back at him. He knew the boy played the violin-quite well, actually-but he couldn't say he actually knew his name.

"Why was Gil here to see you?" he asked, his innocent words bringing a blush to Roderich's pale, aristocratic face.

"H-he wasn't," Roderich insisted, looking away, "He comes here often, doesn't he?"

"Si," the boy replied, tilting his head, "but he didn't come to make trouble today. He just watched you."

Roderich's blush intensified, and he didn't respond. He tried to come up with another reason for Gilbert's presence, but he didn't know the other well enough.

"Feliciano!" someone called suddenly, drawing the Italian's attention, "can you come help me tune this?"

"Si!" the boy, Feliciano, replied brightly, shooting Roderich one more curious glance before moving away to help the girl.


	5. One Reveals Their Love's Gone Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gilbert makes a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another update? Yeah, coz Anthony makes me do my fucking work. Enjoy~

Fools Like Us  
5-One Reveals Their Love’s Gone Away

"So, the stuffy piano guy is your new bro?" Gilbert asked, grinning at Elizaveta as he locked his fingers behind his head. They were out behind the school where Elizaveta sat in the shade of a tall, leafy tree, smiling up at her childhood best friend.  
"Yes, although I think he'd prefer if you called him Roderich," she told him, ignoring his snort of contempt, "My father met his mother in France."  
Gilbert grumbled something about "stupid rich people and their privileges" as he settled down next to the slender brunette. He rolled his eyes as he moved her skirt to avoid sitting on it.  
"Why do you wear this kind of stuff?” he asked, his tone derisive. He held the fabric between two fingers as though there was something disgusting about it.  
Elizaveta snatched it from him, frowning. "What's wrong with my clothes?” she asked, sounding more challenging than hurt.  
"Why can't you just wear normal clothes like you used to?" he asked, nonplussed by her sudden attitude.  
"In other words, you think I should dress like a boy again?" She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.  
Gilbert looked bewildered. "Is that so bad?" he asked, confused, "I thought most girls were wearing pants these days!"  
Elizaveta whacked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "I got enough of that. I thought I was a boy, remember?"  
"Yeah, I remember," Gilbert replied, rubbing his stomach.  
"Still gay?"  
"Still gay."  
They fell into silence. Elizaveta couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. She knew she'd been Gilbert's first crush when they both thought she was a boy. It hadn't been too hard for him to come to terms with his feelings, but facing the issue of his sexuality had been harder. He'd been terrified to find that his interest in Elizaveta had lessened when they'd hit puberty and realized she was a girl. By now, however, he'd dealt with the issue long enough to be comfortable with his interests.  
Gilbert let his head fall onto Elizaveta's shoulder, closing his bright crimson eyes. He'd missed her and had been afraid he'd never see her again.  
"Don't fall asleep on me," she warned him, her tone exasperated. He simply grunted in response, making himself comfortable.  
"Eliza?" asked a familiar, smooth voice.  
Gilbert's eyes snapped open and he sat up so fast he felt dizzy for a moment. Elizaveta chuckled, a knowing gleam in her bright green eyes.  
"Over here, Roderich!" she called, leaning around the tree to see her stepbrother and wave him over.  
The brunet looked relieved at first, but he froze when he spotted Gilbert. The two stared at each other for a moment before Roderich coughed softly, composing himself.  
"Hey Roddy," Gilbert greeted weakly in a tone he had obviously intended to be teasing.  
"Gilbert," came the stiff response. Roderich sat on Elizaveta's other side, his movements shaky and awkward. The Hungarian girl glanced back and forth between them, a pleased smirk spreading across her face.  
Gilbert, on the other hand, frowned at the response his greeting had gotten. Forgetting his nervousness, he leaned around Elizaveta and winked. "Remembering my name, huh?" he began, mentally kicking himself, "That's a good start."  
Roderich blushed, but otherwise seemed composed as he raised an eyebrow in response. "I could say the same to you," he retorted smoothly, "In fact, you've already moved on to nicknames, it seems."  
Gilbert blinked in surprise at the other, whose aristocratic features were surprisingly composed, despite the blush spreading across his cheeks. Slowly, an eager grin began to take over his own expression.  
"Oh yeah, Specs, I'm laying down the path to taking you home with every word," he teased, earning a roll of Roderich's clear, beautiful eyes.  
"As if you could 'take me home,'" the brunet told him primly, his eyes sweeping over Gilbert's form with a clearly judgmental air.  
"Oh, I dunno..." Gilbert replied with false thoughtfulness, shifting so Elizaveta wasn't blocking his view anymore, "I have most of the popular Disney movies."  
For a moment, there was silence. Roderich looked too surprised to respond. After a moment, however, laughter broke through his stoic appearance. Gilbert couldn't help but smile, enjoying the effect of his teasing--or really, he supposed it could be called flirting.  
A similar smile had spread across Elizaveta's face as she watched the two of them. Now, however, she chose to clear her throat, grabbing their attention.  
"I just remembered," she lied, "I promised Feliciano I would help him with that homework assignment he was having trouble with. Sorry!" She pushed herself to her feet and hurried away with a quick wave. It wasn't until she reached the school building that she looked back, hiding in the cover of a wall that didn't seem to serve any real purpose.  
The two boys were still under the tree. They sat facing each other, Gilbert propped up by his arms and Roderich leaning against the tree. It looked like Roderich was smiling from where she stood, but she couldn't see his expression clearly, and she couldn't see Gilbert's expression at all.  
In fact, the albino was grinning at the brunet with a mixture of curiosity, interest, and a hint of lecherousness. Roderich was, in fact, smiling at him, but there was an element of shyness to it.  
"So? What about it?" Gilbert continued, picking up where they'd left off when Elizaveta's departure had interrupted them.  
"What about what?" Roderich asked, looking genuinely confused. He'd never admit it, but he'd gotten caught up in his own thoughts and fantasies about what direction this conversation could take. Now, Gilbert seemed to be expecting an answer, and Roderich had no idea which one to give him.  
Gilbert snorted, rolling his crimson eyes. "Coming over!" he reminded the other, "Watching movies and all that. Dude, I even have The Black Cauldron!"  
Roderich stared at him, nonplussed. "I've never heard of that one," he admitted, earning a scandalized look from the boy in front of him.  
"Okay, now you don't have a choice," he insisted, "You're coming to watch it."  
Roderich raised an eyebrow. "I am?" he challenged. His heart was pounding, but he chose to ignore it. He knew better than to let himself get involved with someone--anyone, really, but especially someone like Gilbert. He was so full of life; people like that were dangerous to people like Roderich.  
"Yeah!" Gilbert continued, oblivious to his discomfort, "I mean, it's so underappreciated! Someone's got to get the word out!" He grinned, suddenly leaning forward into Roderich's personal space.  
"So?" he asked, "What do you say Roddy? Marathon at my place?" His crimson eyes held a mixture of hope and arrogance, and part of Roderich wanted nothing more than to give in.  
"Are you asking me out?" he asked instead, stalling for time.  
Gilbert's grin disappeared and the color drained from his face. "I, uh..." he began eloquently, "Sure, I guess. Why not?"  
"In that case, no," Roderich replied bluntly. Gilbert thought he might have heard a slight quiver of uncertainty in his voice, but his deadpan expression convinced him that he must have been mistaken.  
Gilbert's jaw dropped in surprise. Since Roderich had brought it up, he'd thought there was no way he'd refuse. He wouldn't admit it, but it did sting a little. A pout twisted his lips, and he sat back slightly, giving Roderich space.  
There was a silence between them for several long, awkward moments.  
"A-alright, then," Gilbert said finally, pushing himself to his feet, "I'll, um...I'll leave you alone then."  
He turned and walked away, holding his head high in hopes that no one could see how much being rejected hurt him. It wasn't as if it was the first time, but there was something about Roderich that made it hurt worse. He cursed himself as he suddenly realized he didn't even know if Elizaveta's brother was interested in other guys.  
With his cheeks on fire, he set off to find Francis. He didn't see Roderich watching him walk away, curling in on himself with self-hatred and the regret of denying himself what he wanted when it was right in front of him.  
Gilbert found Francis in the middle of an otherwise deserted hallway. Despite his "social butterfly" attitude, his friends knew that the blond often sought solitude. He was currently perched on a wide windowsill, looking out the window across the back field where Gilbert had been less than five minutes ago.  
"Trouble, mon ami?" Francis asked without looking at him as Gilbert slumped onto the opposite side of the sill.  
The albino scoffed and muttered, "You could say that."  
Francis looked up then, his bright blue eyes taking in his friend's sullen appearance. He observed in silence for a moment before asking gently, "What happened?"  
Gilbert's face flared red again as his embarrassment and shame came flooding back. "I, um..." he began awkwardly, "I was sort of flirting with him and asked him to come over. I wasn't really thinking about it, but then he asked if it was a date and I said sure, y'know? Because I really, really like him and I thought I had a chance for some stupid reason!"  
By the time he finished he was out of breath and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The shade of his face would have matched the irises. Francis couldn't help but smile at the flustered state of the boy that many other students thought was so cool.  
"He said no then?" Francis asked, confirming where he thought the story was going.  
Gilbert nodded, hiding his face. He waited for Francis to continue. The blond had probably been watching and could tell him how Roderich had laughed or flipped him of as he walked away or something.  
"Judging by the way he was acting," the blond began instead, "I would have expected things to be the other way around."  
Gilbert lifted his head from his arms, giving his friend a confused look. Francis was gazing at him steadily, a look in his eyes that Gilbert couldn't interpret.  
"He curled up like you'd said something terrible to him," Francis explained patiently, "If he told you no, he must have a reason, non?"  
Gilbert looked out the window without answering. He could see Roderich, still sitting under the tree. He did seem to have curled in on himself; his arms were wrapped around his knees and his face was buried against them. Gilbert's expression softened as he looked down at the young pianist.  
Finally, he hummed in agreement to Francis' earlier statement.  
"So?" Francis asked, lifting his eyebrows in a way that suggested he was waiting for an answer.  
"'So' what?" Gilbert asked, tilting his head in confusion.  
The blond rolled his eyes. "Are you going to just give up on him?" he asked, "Or are you going to find out what makes him tick?"  
Gilbert blushed lightly even as a grin took over his face. "I'll figure him out," he assured Francis, "What kind of friend would I be if I let him wallow in self-pity forever?"  
Francis chuckled, shaking his head. He couldn't help but feel that Roderich was in good hands, whether he--or the majority of people at their school--thought so or not.


	6. When My Hand Was In Your Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovino and Antonio have their first study session, which doesn't quite go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's last week's chapter~! Almost caught up now, so wish me luck on the next few! So anyway, I know it takes a few minutes to comment, but that's worth making me grin stupidly at my phone so people think I'm texting a boy or something, no?

Fools Like Us  
6-When My Hand Was In Your Hand

"This is where your house?"  
Lovino looked up at the bright yellow building, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, the Spaniard's overwhelmingly positive personality seemed to make sense.  
"Si," Antonio chirped, smiling down at him, “You’ve been here before, remember?”  
“Si, but it could have been Beilschmidt’s…” Lovino retorted moodily, looking away stubbornly.  
Antonio reached for Lovino's hand, but the Italian pulled it away. He frowned, but shook it off and led the way up to the shiny red door. Lovino almost expected there to be a Spanish flag hanging over the door.  
Antonio unlocked and opened the door, stepping into the open foyer and holding the door for Lovino. The younger boy glanced around, finding the layout pleasing to the eye. He began to relax even as Antonio closed the door behind him, shutting him into an unfamiliar place.  
"Are you hungry?" Antonio asked, dropping his bag near the stairs, "I'm sure I have some churros or something."  
"I guess," Lovino admitted, shrugging. He refused to let on that his mouth watered at the mere mention of food.  
Antonio smiled knowingly anyway, disappearing into a room painted a rich, bright red. Lovino followed him, feeling out of place. He kept his backpack on his shoulders; it was the one thing in this place that was actually familiar.  
Antonio had bent down to look on one of the lower shelves in the pantry, and the first thing Lovino saw when he entered the room was Antonio's backside filling out his jeans better than any Lovino had ever seen.  
He turned away with a heavy blush and pretended to be interested in a mural hanging on the wall. He swallowed around the lump that had risen in his throat, trying to control his blush before he had to face the elder boy again.  
"Lovino?" came Antonio's questioning voice.  
Taking a deep breath, Lovino turned to face him. He stood with a plate of churros in one hand and a nonplussed expression on his face.  
"Are you feeling alright?" the Spaniard asked, stepping forward and pressing the back of his hand against Lovino's forehead.  
"I'm fine! Don't touch me, idiota," Lovino complained, pushing his hand away.  
Antonio sighed but let it go, offering the Italian the plate of churros instead. Trying not to look too eager, Lovino plucked a few from the pile on the plate. Antonio smiled as he watched Lovino pop one end into his mouth.  
"So," Antonio began, setting the plate down after taking a couple churros for himself, "What part do you not understand?"  
He tilted his head curiously, looking honest and interested. Lovino couldn't help but trust him for this, despite his misgivings about Antonio's common sense. He sighed, shifting his bag on his shoulder.  
"All those maps don't make any sense," he grumbled, "I don't see why any of these people would want to have anything to do with each other. And why do the Americans always come barging in?"  
Antonio couldn't help but smile at the Italian's cute, pouty expression. He wanted to reach out and pet his hair until the grumpiness cleared up, but he knew Lovino wouldn't appreciate the gesture. Instead, he motioned for the boy to follow him and made his way down the stairs to his room, picking up his own bag on the way.  
Antonio's room, like the outside of the house, was painted a bright, cheerful yellow. His bed was pushed up against the wall; it was covered with a light blue duvet with a blanket featuring the Spanish flag folded over the end. There was a TV along the other wall with several game consoles and wires spread around it. Two red beanbags took up part of the floor, and a third, black one had been pushed into the corner. A small table near Antonio's bed was piled with dirty plates, mostly paper, causing Lovino to curl his lip at it. Antonio noticed and swept the paper plates into a tiny blue garbage can underneath the table, laughing sheepishly.  
"Alright, how do you expect to help me?" Lovino asked with an irritable sigh, throwing himself and his bag onto Antonio's bed.  
Antonio perched on the bed next to him, ignoring the glare he received. Instead, he asked, "Can I see what you have?"  
Lovino heaved a put-upon sigh and dug his notebook from his bag. Loose papers stuck out at all angles and he sliced his thumb on one, hissing at the small flare of pain.  
Antonio took his hand, holding it firmly when Lovino tried to shake him off. He examined the split in the skin with an unusually serious expression.  
"Bastard, let go of me," Lovino grumbled, tugging at his hand again.  
Antonio ignored him again, but finally released the limb with a small smile. "It's not bleeding," he pointed out uselessly, prompting Lovino to roll his eyes.  
"Whatever," he grumbled, flipping open the notebook. Silence reigned for a few minutes as he searched for the disappointing quiz he must have stuffed in there.  
One of the loose sheets fluttered to the floor, and Antonio leaned forward to pick it up. He glanced over the sheet before Lovino could snatch it back, and his eyebrows shot toward his hairline. Lovino grabbed it with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.  
As expected, it was the quiz he'd been looking for. He set the notebook off to the side, turning away from Antonio. He had no intention of turning back around until his cheeks cooled back to their usual tan.  
Unfortunately for him, the Spaniard had never been particularly skilled at reading body language. He leaned forward, resting a hand on the other's shoulder, causing him to jump.  
"Lovino," he asked gently, confused.  
"What?" Lovino snapped, refusing to turn.  
"Can I see that again?" Antonio asked. His hand left the other's shoulder as he reached for the heavily-corrected paper. Lovino froze as the Spaniard's toned chest pressed against his back.  
"G-get off me!" Lovino managed to squawk finally, shoving Antonio off violently. Antonio pulled away, pain contorting his triumphant expression. Lovino found himself empty-handed and embarrassed.  
Absently rubbing his abused chest, Antonio sat back to examine the pages again. Lovino focused on his lap; he could feel his cheeks heating up again and mentally cursed himself. For several long moments, there was no sound other than that of Antonio turning the pages in his hands.  
"Wow, you really don't have a grasp of geography, do you?" the older boy commented finally. His tone was light and harmless, but Lovino could feel his temper flaring in response.  
"Shut up and help me, you jerk!" he snapped, head-butting Antonio's shoulder.  
"Whoa, calm down, Lovi!" Antonio yelped, trying to fend off the angry Italian. His breath caught momentarily as Lovino glared up at him through his long, dark lashes with fiery hazel eyes.  
Antonio managed to smile down at him, holding him in place by his shoulders. Lovino's expression turned suspicious, waiting to see what the next step would be.  
"Why don't we start with Italy?" Antonio offered, "That's where you're from, right?"  
Lovino nodded slowly, beginning to relax again. "Si."  
"Good!" Antonio chirped, releasing the other's shoulders to clap delightedly, "We can work for an hour, then take a break, no?"  
Lovino rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. Instead of responding, he turned again and pulled his textbook from his bag.

"This is stupid," Lovino complained, not for the first time. He slumped to the side, but Antonio got in his way and he ended up resting against the older boy's shoulder.  
"Well, it's been over an hour," Antonio replied, a note of fondness creeping into his voice. He closed their papers into the textbook and set it aside, careful not to disturb Lovino.  
"Do you want to watch something?" Antonio asked, gesturing to the TV.  
Lovino hummed tiredly. "Whatever's on," he replied, sounding sleepy, "Just don't put on something girly."  
"Like cooking?" Antonio asked, trying to figure out where the other's boundaries were.  
Apparently, he'd said the wrong thing. Lovino whacked him in the ribs and growled, "Cooking's not girly, asshole."  
Antonio chuckled and found the remote with the arm that wasn't trapped by another body. He turned on the TV and found some action movie playing on the channel Gilbert had left it on.  
"How's this?" he asked, ready to change it if Lovino wanted him to.  
"Sure, whatever," the Italian replied, his tone bored. Antonio set the remote down and let the movie draw him in, enjoying the warmth pressed against his arm.  
Several minutes passed before either of them spoke again. The movie, which was clearly American-made, was nearing the climax and the screen was filled with explosions. Antonio's eyes grew wide with wonder at the special effects.  
"How do you think they did that?" he asked, turning to look at Lovino.  
His breath caught for what felt the hundredth time in the last few hours.  
Lovino had fallen asleep, his face still pressed against Antonio's shoulder. He breathed deeply, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamed. His shiny, straight hair was mussed from his earlier frustration and contact with his shoulder-pillow. His soft pink lips were parted slightly, and Antonio swallowed hard as the urge to kiss the other boy rose up in him.  
He shook himself mentally and squirmed out from under Lovino, supporting him with both arms. He settled the younger boy onto the bed, supporting his head with his favorite decorative pillow--a large cotton tomato. He backed away, staring at the sleeping Italian with a strange lightness filling his chest. He found himself grinning stupidly and couldn't help but laugh at himself.  
"Buenas noches," he murmured softly, brushing his lips lightly across Lovino's temple.


	7. My Heart Was Pure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> France and Jeanne come up with an idea to help their friends in their romantic endeavors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this one to be longer, but I was writing it in class and I guess I forgot where I was going with it so...yeah.

Fools Like Us  
7-My Heart Was Pure

Francis waited in the empty hallway, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for classes to be released for the day. He had flirted his way out of his own class and now stood waiting for the irritable Student Council president, Arthur Kirkland.  
It had been Jeanne's idea to come, really. She'd come up with another of her brilliant ideas, and Francis couldn't help but pounce on it. As he waited for Arthur, his mind wandered back to the afternoon the idea had come to her.  
Jeanne leaned back against the pillows; the golden sunlight of late afternoon fell across the bed and restored her skin to its former honeyed shade. She was laughing, her tousled blonde hair falling over her face.  
Francis sat back in the chair next to the bed, smiling at her. The atmosphere was relaxed and the two teenagers enjoyed each other's presence.  
"Wow!" Jeanne gasped finally, trying to control her breathing, "Antonio really needs to watch himself with that kid, doesn't he?"  
Francis nodded, his eyes still sparkling with mirth. "Of course," he chuckled, "my cousin has an adorable face, but his temper is somewhat less pleasing."  
Jeanne leaned her head back, her smile fading as she seemed to be mulling over an idea. Finally, she asked, "You said Gilbert was going to be having some trouble with the pianist too, right?"  
Francis nodded, wondering what she was getting at. She always had wonderful, creative ideas that had a tendency to take Francis' breath away. There was a moment of silence as she thought and he watched her.  
"Why don't you talk to Arthur about the school hosting a Valentine's dance?" Jeanne asked finally, naming the Student Council president, "He'd listen to someone he's known his whole life, right?"  
Francis grimaced. He may have known the English boy for years, but that didn't mean Arthur would listen to him. After a moment, however, his eyes lit up with sudden inspiration.  
"Oui," he replied thoughtfully, a grin beginning to spread across his features, "I think he might be open to that idea."  
Now Francis found himself in the empty hallway, brought back to the current moment by the sound of the bell going off over his head.  
He straightened up and waited until he spotted the messy blond hair and thick eyebrows of his sometimes-friend. He darted into the crowd and pulled Arthur away from his Japanese and American friends, dragging him back over to the wall.  
"What the--!? Let go of me, Frog!" Arthur snapped, trying to pry Francis' fingers off his arm.  
Francis rolled his eyes, ignoring the other's protests. "I have an idea for you, mon ami," he told the Brit, speaking over his protests.  
Arthur snorted, glaring suspiciously up at the older French boy. His attempts to free his captive limb continued.  
"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," the shorter boy growled, his green eyes flashing.  
"This school should have a Valentine's dance," Francis stated, ignoring Arthur's protests.  
Arthur rolled his eyes. He was used to the French boy's constant efforts to encourage romance at school, and part of him felt as if he had a personal mission to stop Francis. He opened his mouth to tell Francis off when the French boy put a finger to his lips, leaning in conspiratorially.  
"This could work to your advantage as well, you know," the long-haired blond murmured, his eyes flicking up to something over his head.  
Arthur turned to follow his gaze, his face heating up when his eyes landed on his American friend, Alfred F. Jones. His gaze returned to Francis to find a pleased and knowing look waiting for him.  
Arthur scowled. "A-absolutely not!" he snapped, determined not to let Francis find an advantage. If Alfred didn't know how Arthur felt, no one else needed to either.  
Francis raised his eyebrows, sending a feeling of dread flooding through Arthur. Before the Brit could stop him, he looked up and called, "Alfred! Could you come here for a moment?"  
The American, looking surprised, complied. Arthur, on the other hand, continued to glare daggers at the smirking Francis.  
"Hey Francis," Alfred greeted with one of his typical, bright smiles, "Whataya need?"  
"It's tragic, really," Francis began dramatically, schooling his face into an exaggeratedly disappointed expression, "You see, I think this school could use something to lift our spirits after a dreary winter--a dance, perhaps. Alas, it seems our great and powerful Student Council president would prefer to add more rain to our already dark days."  
Arthur sputtered, trying to formulate a response, but neither seemed to be listening to him. Alfred's eyes widened for a moment and the color seemed to drain from his face, but he quickly recovered and turned to face Arthur. Arthur let out an internal groan at the eagerness on his face.  
"Please, Artie?" Alfred begged, using the nickname despite knowing Arthur hated it, "I think it would be a great idea! I'll help you decorate and everything!"  
Arthur could feel his resolve weakening under the intense blue gaze. He could still see Francis smirking at him from the corner of his eye, but Alfred's presence lessened the blow. Finally, he let out a long-suffering sigh.  
"No aliens, alright?" he grumbled finally, shooting Francis another glare as he and Alfred cheered. After a few moments of being ignored once his consent had been obtained, Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and stomped away to meet Lukas and Vladimir, the other Student Council heads.  
Once Arthur was out of sight, Francis slung an arm over Alfred's shoulders, pulling him in close.  
"Good luck with that one, mon ami," he murmured into the American's ear.  
Alfred blushed but grinned up at Francis, nodding.  
"Thanks," he breathed sheepishly.  
"Non, thank you," Francis replied with a grin, "But for once, I'm going to agree with Arthur--no aliens."


	8. Now I See a Different Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another study session with Antonio and Lovino that gets a bit awkward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has actually been done for a while, but since my laptop has about a million issues, I didn't feel up to editing it...Anyway, 9 is ready to post too and 10 should be done soon, so hopefully I'll be back on track soon (ha I actually wanted to be up to 18 this week).

"This is stupid," Lovino groaned, leaning away from the work in front of him.  
"You always say that," Antonio told him with an exasperated chuckle.  
"Well, it is," Lovino snapped. He propped his elbow up on the table, resting his cheek on it. He fixed his glare on the map in front of him. In his opinion, a bunch of squiggly lines shouldn't divide the world as much as history said it did.  
Antonio found himself smiling as he watched the younger boy. Lovino's eyes were curtained by dark lashes, muting the bright, intense hazel and softening the glare directed at the innocent paper. His skin was rosy under the smooth tan, and Antonio guessed his frustration must have been the cause. He'd never seen anyone struggle so much with facts, but it only seemed to add to Lovino's charm in his eyes.  
As the silence dragged on, Lovino's eyes flickered up to his face and he scowled. "What are you looking at, bastard?"  
"Ah, nothing," Antonio lied, waving his hand as if it would clear the air between them, "Do you want to take a break?"  
Lovino snorted and rolled his eyes. However, there was no humor in his voice when he asked, "What, so you can watch me sleeping again?"  
Antonio couldn't help but blush at the reminder of the way their last study session had ended. Lovino had woken from his nap to find Antonio staring at him. Objects had been thrown and frantic explanations were ignored. In all honesty, Antonio was surprised Lovino had agreed to come back at all.  
"I wasn't really," Antonio muttered again, shrugging, "I just happened to be checking on you when you woke up."  
"Bugiardo," Lovino muttered under his breath. Antonio didn't know what that meant, but, knowing Lovino, he didn't think it was anything good. He frowned to himself, wondering how he could redeem himself in the younger Italian's eyes.  
"Make me some food or something, dammit," Lovino grumbled suddenly.  
Antonio brightened. That was something he could do, and it was something he knew the Italian would actually appreciate.  
"¡Si!" he chirped, "Why don't we make something together."  
Lovino stared at him almost disbelievingly.  
"I'm not going to get my hands dirty ruining whatever you're doing," he grumbled finally, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he turned away. The hand not holding a pencil played idly with the corner of his paper.  
Antonio rolled his eyes. He didn't know anything about Lovino's cooking abilities, but he was confident about his own.  
"Nothing will be ruined," he assured Lovino. He took the pencil from Lovino's hand and took that hand in his own, his heart warming when Lovino allowed him to do so. He pulled the other to his feet and led him out of the room, chatting idly about some flower he'd seen near the school earlier that day.  
Lovino rolled his eyes as he listened, fighting back a smile.  
Whoever had decided to paint the kitchen red must have known what they were doing. The moment he stepped through the doorway, Lovino could feel himself relaxing.  
"What should we make?" Antonio asked brightly, almost to himself.  
"Churros?" Lovino suggested quietly. He knew he'd finished off the last of Antonio's stash earlier, and his sweet tooth was craving more. Also, though he'd never admit it to the Spanish boy's face, he found Antonio's churros to be the best he'd ever tasted.  
Antonio's bright green eyes lit up at the quiet suggestion, and he clapped his hands together cheerfully. "¡Si!"  
He set to work as Lovino watched, pulling out pans, oil, and a myriad of ingredients for the dough. Lovino fell into place at his side almost naturally, his slim, tan hands taking the ingredients and beginning to sort and measure while Antonio set the oil up to heat.  
"Have you made churros before?" Antonio asked, pausing for a moment to watch Lovino's movements.  
The Italian shook his head, looking up to find Antonio's eyes on him. He blushed and forced a suspicious glare.  
Antonio met the negativity with a smile, as he always did.  
"That's okay. I'll show you how," he chirped, coming to stand next to Lovino.  
Several minutes passed in near-silence. Antonio's voice dropped to a murmur as he explained the process to Lovino. The kitchen was warm from the heating oil and the sunlight streaming through the window. Their hands brushed occasionally, sending unacknowledged jolts through both of them. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable.  
The mood stayed until the last of the churros had been dropped into the oil.  
"There!" Antonio exclaimed cheerfully, brushing his hands off on the black jeans he wore and leaving powdery streaks from the dry ingredients. Lovino found himself smiling; the simple act of cooking always improved his mood.  
Antonio found himself staring. He'd never seen Lovino smile like that before.  
"You should smile more," he commented softly. Lovino blushed and that beautiful smile fell from his lips. Antonio immediately regretted his words.  
"Lovino," he murmured, stepping closer and taking the younger boy's face in his hands.  
Lovino leaned into his touch slightly, looking up at Antonio with uncertainty and maybe a hint of affection. Time seemed suspended for a moment; neither boy wanted to move.  
Suddenly Lovino's eyes widened. He pulled away, his face quickly turning red. Looking anywhere but at Antonio, he grumbled, "I-I have to go..."  
"What about the churros?" Antonio asked, blurting the first thing that came to his mind. His chest ached at Lovino's sudden negative reaction.  
"Eat them yourself!" Lovino snapped, "I'm going."  
He hesitated for a moment, then turned and left the room. Antonio couldn't seem to move. He heard Lovino go down the stairs, come back up, and leave the house. He didn't even say goodbye.

Later that night, Antonio found himself curled up on his bed, watching reruns of Spanish soap operas and nursing a carton of ice cream. It seemed to be helping, though he couldn't figure out why. This was something girls did when their boyfriends broke up with them, right? He wasn't a girl, and he hadn't been dating Lovino.  
Though, as the thought crossed his mind, he couldn't say he would be opposed to it.  
Before he could return to wallowing in his thoughts, the doorbell rang. His brow furrowed in confusion; he wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe Francis had some sort of sixth sense for emotional crisis?  
Antonio set the ice cream aside and untangled himself from his blankets. Barefoot, he padded up the stairs to the front door. As usual, his parents weren't home, and he took the precaution of peering through the blurry, decorative window set into the door. His breath caught at what he hoped he saw.  
He couldn't yank the door open fast enough to reveal Lovino in his pizza delivery uniform, his head turned so the brim of the cap hid his expression. He could feel a smile slowly spreading across his lips at the sight of the younger boy.  
"Here," Lovino grumbled suddenly, thrusting the pizza box he held at the older boy.  
Antonio blinked. "I didn't order a pizza," he replied, confused.  
"I-it's from me," Lovino explained, his voice dropping as his embarrassment rose, "I...I'm sorry..."  
Antonio blinked again, staring for a moment. Finally he took the box with one hand and Lovino's wrist with the other, ignoring the Italian boy's protests as he set the pizza aside.  
He tugged gently on Lovino's arm as he straightened, pulling the other into his arms. It was easier than he had expected, and he couldn't help but smile against Lovino's hair.  
"Apology accepted," he told Lovino, his tone bordering on singsong. Lovino didn't return the hug, but instead of pushing Antonio away, he buried his face in Antonio's bright yellow sweatshirt, knocking his hat off.  
"Hey, Lovi?" Antonio asked suddenly.  
"What, bastard?" Lovino responded, his voice muffled by fabric.  
"This means you're going to keep studying with me, right?" he asked hopefully.  
"Yes, idiota," Lovino sighed, as if it was obvious. There was another moment of silence following the exchange.  
"Hey, Lovi?"  
"What?"  
"Can I kiss you?"  
Lovino froze before pulling back, his face bright red. His voice was almost a squeak when he snapped, "N-no!"  
Antonio let him go with a smile, hiding his disappointment.  
"Okay," he agreed cheerfully, "I'll see you tomorrow, no?"  
"R-right," Lovino grumbled. He hesitated for a moment, then snatched up his hat, turned, and stomped down the stairs, his cheeks still burning. When he reached his car, he turned back and gave Antonio a small, shy wave. Antonio replied with his own wide, sweeping wave and a cheerful smile.  
Lovino rolled his eyes and fought back a smile as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway.


	9. Rewriting Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizaveta and Gilbert spend the day together talking about their pasts, and Gil gets another chance with Roderich.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look~! Another chapter! Hoping to have more done this week!

Gilbert frowned, playing with the laces on his sneakers. He sat cross-legged on the floor in Elizaveta's room while she sat on the bed, talking at him. It had been at least five minutes since he'd stopped listening.  
"Gil," she said suddenly, huffing impatiently. Her tone broke him out of his haze, and he blinked up at her owlishly.  
"What?" he asked dumbly.  
She rolled her eyes. "I asked how things were going with Roderich."  
Gilbert didn't reply. His eyes returned to the soles of his shoes.  
"Gil?" she asked again, her tone softer.  
"He...I don't think he wants anything to do with me," he grumbled finally. He couldn't bring himself to look up at her.  
"He might be harder to charm then your past boyfriends," she tried to assure him.  
Again, Gilbert didn't answer. The silence dragged on for a few moments.  
"You...you've had other boyfriends, right?" she asked without certainty. She slid off the edge of the bed to kneel beside him.  
Gilbert shrugged, pulling one knee up to rest his chin on it. "Not exactly..." he admitted, "It's...I mostly just hang with Toni and Franny."  
"Oh...oh..." Elizaveta murmured softly, her bright green eyes widening.  
Gilbert fidgeted under her gaze, throwing in a half-hearted glare for added measure.  
"No one else knows, do they?" she asked with a frown of her own, "You're still in the closet."  
The albino hesitated for a moment, looking like he might use one of his typical, cocky comebacks. Instead, after a moment of silence, he nodded shyly.  
Suddenly, he found his arms full of Elizaveta and his ears full of her reassurances. He patted her back awkwardly.  
"If you want, I can tell you more about Roderich," Elizaveta offered helpfully. If he didn't know her better, he might have suspected that she wanted them to get together.  
Actually, he did know her better, and that probably was what she wanted.  
The offer was tempting, but he shook his head. He pulled his other knee up to his chin, fixing Elizaveta with a sad but steady gaze.  
"He doesn't want me right now," he murmured softly, "I'm not going to push it. I want to win him over by myself."  
Elizaveta smiled at him, her eyes softening. "You haven't changed much, have you?" she asked, the warmth of familiarity infusing her voice, "I bet you don't even use cheat codes, do you?"  
Gilbert rolled his eyes. "For your information, I don't," he grumbled, prompting a burst of laughter from the brunette.  
"I missed you, you know," she told him softly after a moment of silence, "When Dad decided to travel and took me with him...I just wanted to come home and see you." She twirled a lock of her long hair around a finger, biting her lip as tears came to her eyes. The memory of those first few weeks of loneliness still hurt. Her father had taken to moving so often that she sometimes felt as if Gilbert had been the only one she could count on as a constant friend--until Roderich.  
"I missed you too," Gilbert assured her. His crimson eyes searched her face, a small smile pulling at his lips. "You could have called, you know."  
She stared at him blankly for a moment. "I...never thought of that."  
Gilbert couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in him at her reaction. She stared a moment longer before joining in. When the door opened, they were both on their backs, holding their sides and wiping their eyes.  
"What's going on here?" asked a familiar, prim voice.  
The two on the ground looked up to see Roderich in the doorway, his hand on the knob and one perfectly-shaped eyebrow raised. For some reason, the sight sent them into fresh peals of laughter.  
The color rose in Roderich's cheeks and he left the room with a huff, not waiting for his answer.  
"Where did you pick up that guy, anyway?" Gilbert couldn't stop himself from asking when his laughter subsided.  
"France, actually," Elizaveta told him, still trying to tame her chuckles, "Our parents met at some recital he was playing at. Papa was just traveling, but she was there for Roderich. He needed to get some space from an ex-boyfriend or something."  
Gilbert gaped at her, stunned enough to forgive the mischievous glint in her eyes. Tossing aside his qualms about asking for information, he asked shakily, "He's...not straight?"  
"Not completely, anyway," she explained with a shrug, "Since our parents have been together, I haven't seen him date anyone. Apparently, things went very badly with his ex, Vash."  
Gilbert wanted to ask more, but stopped himself. That was Roderich's story to tell. "What about you?" he asked instead, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "How's your love life been going?"  
Elizaveta blushed, a light rose shade spreading over her cheeks. "W-well, I'm not saying there hasn't been some interest...but I moved around so much, you know? There was never anything serious."  
Gilbert's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked, "You're so pretty and kind and energetic though...You mean you weren't a star everywhere you went?"  
Elizaveta blushed, laughing awkwardly. "Like I said, there was interest," she told him, waving the thoughts away, "I-I just thought it would be better to avoid the matter altogether, you know?"  
Gilbert shrugged, still watching her with some surprise.  
"So, anyway," Elizaveta began, changing the subject, "I see you found some other friends after I left."  
Gilbert grinned. "Yeah, Toni and Francis. They're pretty awesome," he told her cheerfully, "I met Francis the year after you moved, since I didn't have you around to keep away the schoolyard bullies. We met Toni a few years later when he moved here from Spain.”  
"I remember Francis," Elizaveta mused, "I didn't like him much when we were kids."  
Gilbert laughed, remembering the time she'd tried to beat up the French boy with a plastic frying pan. He propped himself up on his hands and let out a small, nostalgic sigh. "I think he's still afraid of you," he commented finally.  
Elizaveta chuckled and leaned back against her bed. She smiled at Gilbert, her expression somewhat wistful. "Guess some things never change, huh?"

Gilbert didn't expect Roderich to be on the front porch when he left the house that night. He nearly ran into the boy in the dark, and his breath caught as he realized how close he was. He quickly took a step back before the other could snap at him or something.  
"What the fuck, dude?" he whined, trying to save face, "Why are you standing out here in the dark?"  
"Why are you laughing it up with Elizaveta behind closed doors?" Roderich returned, his tone annoyed and...hurt? Was he jealous?  
"What?" Gilbert asked stupidly, staring at him, "She's my friend, remember?"  
Roderich frowned and turned away, shoulders hunched. Gilbert tentatively closed the distance between them.  
"Roddy?" he asked quietly, "She, um...told you about me, didn't she?"  
There was no response at first. Gilbert was about to give up and walk away when Roderich finally spoke. "All the time."  
Gilbert groaned. "What, seriously? She talked about my sexuality all the time? I mean, I know she has some kind of fetish for gays, but--What?"  
Roderich was staring at him, amethyst eyes wide. He opened his mouth, then closed it. His lips pursed for a moment before he finally said, "That...wasn't what I meant.  
Gilbert flushed. "Oh."  
"You're gay?" Roderich asked after a moment.  
Gilbert leaned against the railing next to him, his cheeks still bright red. He stared out at the street, his eyes tracking a passing car instead of holding Roderich's stare. "Yeah...You?"  
"Same..." the brunet replied quietly after a moment's hesitation. A small smile tugged at Gilbert's lips.  
"I had the biggest crush on Lizzie when we were kids," he admitted suddenly, "Everyone called her Eli then; even she thought she was a boy until puberty. When I found out she was a girl...I don't know. It just kind of faded..." He shrugged, glancing at Roderich out of the corner of his eye.  
The other boy quickly turned away, cheeks darkening. "I'm not going to share some little coming out story with you or whatever," he grumbled.  
Gilbert laughed. "That's fine. How about we go get some coffee together instead?" he suggested, "Saturday, 3 o'clock. My treat."  
"You're asking me out again?" Roderich asked incredulously.  
"Yeah, but this time I'm doing it properly," Gilbert told him, leaning in a bit.  
"F-fine, whatever. If it will shut you up," Roderich agreed, maybe a little too quickly. A huge, elated grin spread over Gilbert's face.  
"Great! I'll pick you up here!" He leaned in as if to kiss the brunet, then stopped himself. Flashing a smaller, almost shy smile, he squeezed Roderich's hand gently and slipped off the porch, heading over the lawn to Antonio's house. On the other porch’s steps, he paused.  
"Lizzie can give you my number!" he called, "See you Saturday, Roddy!"  
Roderich watched him disappear into the bright yellow eyesore next door, his heart pounding. He wished Gilbert had kissed him, but at the same time, he was terrified of how close the albino had come. He was also glad Gilbert hadn't tried to put his number in Roderich's phone himself--it might have been a little embarrassing trying to explain why it was already there.


	10. The Dogs Run Down the Beach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Jeanne have a few deep conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I checked the spelling on this, but didn't proofread/revise so I could get it out sooner. If you see anything weird, let me know!
> 
> ~Saya

The halls bustled with life, but the small hospital room was quiet in comparison. The shades were drawn, muting the bright sunlight of late afternoon. The room had only two occupants, both speaking in quiet voices.

"I wish I could have gone home one more time," Jeanne murmured, looking wistful.

"What do you mean?" Francis asked, pressing his lips to her knuckles, "We'll go to France together when you're better."

Jeanne laughed hollowly, managing a small smile as she looked at him. There was no amusement in her expression, only tenderness.

"Francis..." she murmured softly, her tone suggesting that he needed to face the truth.

"Really," he told her earnestly, "We'll go and see the mountains around where you used to live, and I'll take you to Paris." His bright blue eyes shone almost feverishly. His smile seemed a bit forced, but it held.

"Okay," Jeanne replied finally, though her tone suggested she didn't fully believe him. Instead, it was more like she believed that he believed himself.

Francis' expression relaxed, apparently soothed. He lightly stroked her hand with his fingertips. He traced the pale blue veins as if memorizing the branching patterns.

"Jeanne..." he began softy, his voice hesitant.

"Don't say it," she murmured, cutting him off.

He simply nodded. He wasn't going to push it if she didn't want to hear it. They both knew what was on the tip of his tongue anyway.

"So, is Antonio doing any better with your cousin?" she asked, changing the subject.

Francis chuckled and shook his head. "If he's very lucky, he might get a kiss soon," the blond man mused, "It's funny; I don't think Antonio looked twice at anyone until he got a good look at Lovino."

"Well, I hope he is very lucky," Jeanne murmured. A sweet, slightly amused expression crossed her face at Francis' comment. She glanced at the curtained windows again, her expression turning thoughtful.

"I don't have any siblings," she told him suddenly. He knew that already, and she knew that he knew, but she continued anyway. "I wish I had a younger sister. I think I would have been a good example, don't know? But...I'd tell her to take a chance at true love, if she has one. Not to just go for the first person to give her the time of day, of course, but...someone really special.

She looked up then, her sapphire eyes catching his. They held for a moment. She smiled.

That night, Francis dreamed about the first time he'd met Jeanne. It was the first day of high school, and she was in his first class. Neither Antonio nor Gilbert were in the class, so they weren't there to distract him from all the beautiful, interesting people. As he slept, his mind replayed that first day.

The first thing he did as he entered the classroom as let his gaze sweep the room. It was nearly full, giving him the chance to survey most of his new classmates. Almost immediately, his gaze locked onto a girl near the front of the room.

She was beautiful in a simple, relaxed way. She wore a light brown peasant skirt and a loose white top that tied at the collar. Her light blond hair was cut short and pinned back on one side with two silver Bobbi pins.

The seat behind her was empty, and Francis quickly claimed it before anyone else could. He flashed a bright smile at her as she turned to look at him. He was nearly ecstatic when she returned it shyly.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," he greeted, carefully containing his pleasure at gaining her attention, "Comment allez vous?"

Her expression lit up and she turned fully to face him. He thought she would make some inane but fascinated comment about his ability to speak French, but she didn't. Instead, she replied, "Ça va, merci. Et vous?"

His eyes widened slightly, but he contained himself. International students weren't uncommon at this school. "Très bien. Vous parlez français?"

She laughed, and maybe that was where he fell in love. It didn't take him long to learn that her name was Jeanne Arc and she was from the northern part of France. Before class started, he had her number and the promise to speak to him later.

The next day, Francis was back at the hospital. He never had to ask himself if he would go-as long as Jeanne was there, he would be as well. No one looked twice at him as he made his way through the lobby and to her room. He was such a familiar sight that no one questioned his presence anymore.

Jeanne was asleep when he entered the room. The nurse, who must have been taking her vitals, looked up, but she didn't ask him to leave. He pulled up his usual chair and sat, taking Jeanne's pale hand in his warmer ones. A moment later the quiet, dark-haired woman left.

Francis began singing softly. He didn't have to think about the lyrics, freeing his mind when to study the girl he'd become so close to so quickly. It was a song his mother used to sing to him when he was young and they lived in France. He felt a bit strange singing it to Jeanne, but it somehow felt...right.

His singing had mellowed into humming by the time Jeanne woke. She blinked her eyes open slowly, and the first thing she focused on was Francis' familiar face.

"Bon matin, ma belle," Francis greeted, his voice and smile soft.

"Bonjour, cher monsieur," Jeanne replied weakly, her lips quirking in a small smile.

"Comment vas tu?" he asked softly, stroking her hair gently. Her eyes slid closed and she leaned into his touch. She didn't answer, and Francis didn't push it.

Her pretty blue eyes fluttered open again a moment later. "Ça va?" she asked softly.

"Ça va," he replied, putting on a brave face. Sometimes, he felt as if he worried about Jeanne more than she worried about herself. She seemed more accepting of the situation.

The curtains were open today, and the clear blue of the morning sky seemed to draw Jeanne's gaze. Francis frowned; she looked worse today. Her skin was sallow and stretched taut over her cheekbones, falling into shadowy hollows that should have been her round, rosy cheeks. Her hair was stringy; Francis wondered when she'd last washed it. She looked like she'd lost fifty pounds since being admitted to the hospital.

"Jeanne?" he asked softly, brushing her hair out of her face. She tore her gaze away from the window and refocused on his face.

"That thing you said yesterday, about telling a little sister to take a chance at true love...What did you mean by it?" His eyes were bright as he looked at her.

"Francis..." she murmured tiredly, her eyes pleading with him not to make her answer. Even weak and listless, her voice made his name sound beautiful.

The tears were gathering in Francis' eyes now, resisting his attempts to blink them away. He tried to smile. The first tear rolled down his cheek.

"I know what you want to hear," she told him, her voice hoarse. She reached a trembling hand toward him, but it had barely cleared the edge of the bed when she collapsed again. He placed his hand over hers, wrapping his fingers around hers.

"You don't have to say it," Francis whispered, leaning close. He let his head rest on her shoulder, his tears soaking the sheets.

"Francis," she began again, her voice quiet but steady, "I...I need you to understand something..."

Francis looked up again, a frown beginning to settle onto his face. His face was wet and his eyes were beginning to turn red, but his gaze was equally steady. Jeanne took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I'm dying," she told him firmly, "It might not be today, or even this week, but it's going to happen. You're only hurting yourself by denying it."

A fresh wave of tears wet Francis' face, but he didn't stop her this time. Only a miracle would keep her going for more than a few months at best.

"Jeanne..." he began quietly, "I..."

"I know," she whispered, her weak, slender hand gently squeezing his. She smiled weakly, the attempt brightening her beautiful face.

Francis returned her smile through his tears. Even now, he admired her strength.

"Can...can I kiss you?" he asked quietly, hoping she would give him that one small thing.

She blushed, the slight warmth in her cheeks making her look momentarily healthier. "Non, s'il te plaît," she murmured, "I...would like it to be my choice."

He nodded in understanding, letting his head rest on the pillow next to hers. He still held her hand gently. His other hand found the remote and, at a nod from her, he turned on the TV. They spent the rest of the day in comfortable, uneventful near-silence.

He could tell the atmosphere was different the moment he passed through the automatic doors the next day. The dark-haired nurse from the day before was standing at the desk, and as he watched, he looked up. She spotted him, paled, and walked away quickly. Francis' heart rose to his throat.

"Mister Bonnefoy," the woman behind the desk addressed him solemnly as he approached, her face set but her eyes kind. Her nametag identified her as Claire. When Francis nodded, she explained quietly. "Your friend, Miss Arc, passed away during the night. We're sorry for your loss."

Francis' heart plummeted.

"Her...?" he began, but trailed off instead. What was he going to ask about? Her body?

"Her parents will have to contact you about her funeral arrangements," Claire told him, polite but firm. He nodded stiffly and turned, walking back out of the overly-sterile building.

There was no longer anything to keep him coming back, but as he walked away, he felt as if something was trying to pull him back.


	11. And All I'm Left with is Sand in My Shoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An emotional day for Francis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, edited but not revised. Also, I haven't been to a funeral in years and I've only ever been to one, so I just kinda made shit up.
> 
> ~Saya

It was nearly raining. Clouds were dark and heavy with rain that had yet to fall. Beyond the clouds, the sky was a dull, washed-out gray that sucked the color out of everything below. Everything was dark and somber, the way death should be.

At least, the way Francis thought it should be.

In reality, the sun shone brightly and the dew had long since dried from the thick green grass. The only darkness came in the form of a few black suits and dresses gathered around the equally heavy sight of a dark mahogany casket.

Francis sat in the front row with Jeanne's parents on one side and one of her aunts on the other. Gilbert and Antonio sat behind him, their expressions unusually sober. Each had a hand on Francis' shoulder.

There were no audible sobs in the area, but silent tears streaked down many faces, including Francis'. They added their salty residue to the mask that had been forming on his face all day. The wake had left him feeling dry, but he somehow found enough left in him for Jeanne's burial.

Antonio was speaking softly in his ear in low, soothing Spanish that Francis couldn't understand, but appreciated anyway. The part of him that wasn't numbed by loss wished that Lovino could see him like this; even the fiery Italian might be swayed by the Spaniard's attentive, sensitive behavior. The blond let out a heavy, shaky sigh and leaned back into his friends' hands.

All too soon, the sermons were over and the box was being lowered into the ground. Francis found himself thinking it seemed simultaneously too large and too small-too large for the fragile body he remembered, but too small for the exuberant personality that went with it. Jeanne couldn't be in there, could she? But he'd seen her, seen her body laid across the satiny white cushions that lined the dark walls. A dry sob escaped him, seeming to echo through the air above the sound of dirt being shoveled back into the hole.

He had to leave. He had to get out of here and breathe; he couldn't breathe.

But he couldn't leave Jeanne.

He felt as if he was frozen in place. The hands on his shoulders felt almost as if they were holding him down. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as if in slow motion, and he felt as if his body was tingling with the beginnings of panic. Someone was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear their voice.

It was Jeanne's mother. Her expression was tight but serene, apparently unaware of what was happening to the boy her daughter had been so close to. Her light touch on his arm brought Francis back to himself, and he zeroed in on what she was saying.

"-For being there for her. I don't know what she would have done without you." She was thanking him, a small, valiant smile on her face that managed to be more warm than bitter, despite the situation. Her expression turning imploring, she added, "If you ever need anything, you'll let us know, won't you?"

A little stiffly, Francis managed to nod. He couldn't smile, but he tried. It was barely a twitch of his lips that fell flat almost immediately. He felt Gilbert squeeze his shoulder reassuringly.

The crowd began to disperse, offering their condolences. Gilbert and Antonio stood, straightening their jackets. Gil's didn't fit quite right, as the rental shop he'd gotten it from hadn't exactly been prepared for a tall young man with a slim but well-muscled frame and broad shoulders. Slowly, Francis stood and led the way to the car. He couldn't bring himself to look back again.

Gilbert drove them home in his old, beat up car. Normally the albino had the radio blasting, but it didn't seem appropriate today and he kept it silent. Antonio spoke up occasionally, but all his attempts at getting even the simplest answers out of Francis fell flat.

"You want us to keep you company?" Gil asked as they pulled up in front of the blond's elaborate home. It was the first time he'd spoken since they left the graveyard.

Francis simply shook his head, but he gave his best friends a weak, grateful smile. It only held for a second, and he hurried to get out of the car and through his front door before he started crying again. He heard Antonio call behind him to let them know if he needed anything and gave an awkward wave of acknowledgement before slamming through the door.

He fell onto his bed moments later, part of him regretting the way he'd treated the other two boys. They knew him well enough to understand though, and he let his thoughts turn to Jeanne again.

It had been about a week since he'd lost her, and it was finally starting to sink in. The funeral had really brought it home, and now he felt both physically and emotionally drained. He lay on his back in bed, his watery blue eyes tracing patterns in the molding on the ceiling.

Something brushed his hand, causing him to look down and see what it was. His cat sat near his hip, smoothing his long, white fur after making the jump. As if feeling his eyes, Méphisto looked up and fixed him with a piercing blue stare. One forepaw rested on a small blue pillow, and a sad smile spread across Francis' face as he picked it up. Méphisto let out a small, feline huff as he was displaced, but he crawled into Francis' lap and made himself comfortable there instead.

Francis found himself studying the pillow. He'd done that often, mostly just after Jeanne gave it to him and when she first went to the hospital. The stitches of the embroidery were straight and even; her hand had still been strong when she'd made this for him. A soft, filmy hem of lace rounded the cushion, still soft under his fingertips. There was a small French flag embroidered in one corner, but the rest of the fabric featured a small garden with mountains in the distance. Francis had seen a picture if the area once; it was the yard of Jeanne's childhood home in France.

He lay down again, and Méphisto crawled up to his chest, rubbing his cheek against his master's chin. Francis pressed the pillow to the part of his chest that wasn't covered with warm fur, his breath coming in shaky gasps again. Méphisto let out a loud, concerned meow, crawling a little higher up Francis' chest. The Frenchman suddenly rolled over, prompting a much more alarmed sound from the cat. He hugged both feline and pillow to his chest as the first sob came.

It was nearly two hours later when they slowed to hiccups and then simply gasping breaths. Méphisto had long since squirmed out of his arms, and he didn't blame the fluffy white feline. Francis lay on his back again, salt-crusted eyes turned toward a wall of pictures of himself and his friends. Several included him and Jeanne, but he as too tired to cry about it again. Instead, he studied them blankly.

The pictures were simple, some almost domestic. Most had been taken by Gilbert with a camera his brother had given him for his birthday last year, but a few had been taken by Francis himself. One, where he sat on a red couch with his arm around Jeanne, had been taken by her mother.

His heart ached as his eyes scanned the wall, but he found himself smiling as well. Exhausted and confused by his emotions, he let his eyes slip shut and he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self-promo: On a happier note, I rp Romano if anyone wants to interact. Multishipping, OCs & rarepairs welcome, etc.


	12. Now I Recall That Time at the Café

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gil finally gets Roddy to go on a date with him~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I don't have a lot of motivation for this at the moment, so this chapter hasn't been edited. It's been sitting around completed for a while now, so I thought I'd get it out because someone on tumblr asked if I planned to finish this.
> 
> I do. I'm just very lazy and since I started rping Romano, my ships have changed a bit. So motivation is an issue.
> 
> ~Saya

"Hey!" Gilbert greeted as Roderich finally opened the front door. The Austrian pianist hadn't actually taken that long, but even a short amount of time seemed like too much to the impatient, nervous albino.

"Hello," Roderich replied, his tone more subdued.

Gilbert's smiled faded a little, but he didn't let it go. "Sorry I hade to cancel last week," he apologized seriously, "Francis had a thing he needed me to—"

"I know," Roderich cut him off, his tone flat but not unkind. He shifted a little, shoving his hands in the pockets of his long, gray coat. He looked anywhere but at Gilbert's face, wondering if they were going to leave the porch anytime soon. His cheeks were still pink from the pep talk Elizaveta had tried to give him.

"Right, so…Let's go, okay?" Gilbert finally suggested with a toothy grin. He reached for Roderich's hand, but the brunet pulled it back. Gilbert frowned, but shrugged it off and led the way to his car, currently parked by the curb.

Keeping with the gentlemanly image he was trying to promote, he walked around the car to open the passenger's side door. He offered a bright smile, but it didn't change Roderich's expression. After a moment's hesitation, he slid into the seat and let Gilbert close the door.

The slightly taller boy hurried back around the car and slipped into the driver's seat, smiling. Even if Roderich was still being prickly, he was there.

"Anything you want to do besides get coffee?" he asked cheerfully, turning to Roderich as he started the car and shifted into drive.

The brunet gave him an incredulous look. "It's going to rain soon," he snapped instead of answering, "Keep your eyes on the road."

Gilbert rolled his crimson eyes, but did as his companion said. The radio was turned down low, as he was fairly sure Roderich wouldn't particularly like the kind of music he was into. Unfortunately, the silence was making things more awkward.

"You can find a radio station you like or something," Gil offered finally. Normally he didn't like anyone to mess with his stations—especially Antonio—but if it would help him woo Roddy, he could deal with it. That, and the tension was killing him.

Apparently Roderich guessed that, judging by the way he raised an eyebrow at Gilbert. It didn't stop him from leaning over to turn the volume up and begin searching through stations though. The tension was getting to him too, or so it would seem.

When Gilbert finally came to a stop, it was down the street from a small café. He opened Roderich's door and held out a hand for the brunet, but it was ignored. Roderich stood on his own and brushed his clothes off, waiting for Gilbert to close the door and lead the way.

"So, um, what have you been up to?" the albino asked, trying to make small talk as they walked. The clouds overhead were heavy and gray, resulting in the streets below being mostly clear. Roderich looked up in surprise at the question, as if he hadn't actually expected Gilbert to take an interest in his life.

"I…There's a recital coming up soon," he replied simply. In a way, he was testing the waters to see if Gilbert's interest was sincere.

"So you've been practicing?" the German guessed, oblivious to his date's uncertainty. He smiled brightly at the nod his guess received.

They reached the door of the café a few moments later, and Gilbert pushed it open and held it for Roderich. Light spots of color rose in the aristocrat's cheeks, and he slipped past the albino in hopes that he wouldn't notice. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky, and Gil wore a cocky grin as he followed him in.

They were seated quickly, and Roderich stared out the window as the first lightly drops began spattering the glass. Gilbert wasn't speaking at the moment, and the atmosphere was actually rather comfortable and relaxed. He took a minute to listen to the music; it sounded like a '90s love song was playing.

When he looked up again, Gilbert was staring at him in silence. "What?" he asked, his voice a bit sharper than he'd intended. His companion didn't seem to mind; he just shrugged and smiled.

"Just thinkin' I'm pretty lucky. I was afraid you'd change your mind or something," he admitted. He thought about mentioning that this was his first real date, then decided that was definitely on the list of things not to talk about on a first date.

Roderich huffed softly and picked up a sugar packet, toying with the edges until one tore and a few white granules spilled onto the fake-wood tabletop. He frowned, but his cheeks were pink. He'd developed a small crush on Gilbert from Elizaveta's stories, one which had only worsened once he'd met the confident, attractive albino. To actually be on a date with him had his heart pounding. His mind continued trying to find a loophole, something that told him why Gilbert might have taken an interest in him of all people.

Before their awkwardness could become too much for either of them, a waitress stopped by to take their order. She was pretty, young, blonde, and flirting openly with Roderich. Gilbert set his teeth, trying not to let his irritation show too much. He didn't want to act like a jealous boyfriend when he didn't have any clue how Roderich really felt about him, but he was annoyed with the fact that his date was being hit on right in front of him. He couldn't help but let out an irritated sigh, causing Roderich to glance up at him.

"Ma'am, would you mind getting those orders in quickly?" Roderich requested with a small smile, trying to get the message across without being too pushy. She didn't seem to notice; she just winked at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Sure thing, doll. Be right out," she chirped cheerfully, "Oh, and you can call me Marie."

Roderich simply nodded, his own smile small and polite. He had no intention of calling her anything if he could help it. As she walked away, Gilbert finally relaxed.

Did you check the weather reports before you planned this little…outing?" the brunet asked. He still hesitated to call this a date, though the hurt look that flashed through Gilbert's crimson eyes made him regret it for a moment.

"No, not really," Gil answered, shrugging, "I just wanted to go on a date with you as soon as possible. Roderich noticed the slight emphasis he put on the word "date," and it made his stomach turn almost pleasantly.

"W-well, it looks like it's going to rain," Roderich pointed out unnecessarily. He tried to keep his voice steady and a bit haughty, the way people were used to hearing from him. Gilbert just grinned back.

"So…" Gilbert began again after a moment. He wasn't sure where to go from there. He wanted to impress Roderich, but how was he supposed to do that? The brunet was probably cultured and a lot more intelligent than he was. Hell, he was from Austria—no member of Gilbert's family had left the country since his grandfather had brought his mother to the states from Germany.

Worse, Roderich seemed to be waiting for him to go on. He grinned and just sort of gestured awkwardly, hoping to distract from his own nervousness. It didn't seem to work; the brunet simply raised a brow. Gilbert sighed.

"Alright, I'll bite," he sighed finally, "What makes you tick? I mean, you like the piano, ja? What else?"

Roderich raised a brow, as if he couldn't believe that he was actually being asked that question. He seemed to ponder it for a moment, then shrugged.

"There are a few things, some of which you've probably never heard of," he replied finally. He immediately regretted his phrasing; he didn't actually want to push Gilbert away. The albino didn't look particularly happy to be spoken to that way either. He sat back, obviously holding his tongue, just in time for the waitress to return with two lattes and slices of cake for the two young men. Both thanked her quietly, and she quickly backed away from the palpable tension in the air.

"Es tut mir Leid," Roderich mumbled finally, picking up his latte and hiding his face behind it. He felt bad, but he wasn't willing to say it in a way Gilbert could understand. Unfortunately, judging by the grin spreading over the other's face, he understood German.

"Apology accepted," he chirped back, returning to English. Roderich's blush deepended, and he didn't speak again for a moment.

Gilbert let it go, and they continued their date in a silence that bordered on awkward. Gilbert would have preferred a playful banter, but he didn't know how to start it. Instead, he simply continued to bite back the occasional sigh.

"Hey," he began finally, looking up at Roderich from his slice of cake, "D'you want to go for a walk after this?"

One slim, brunet eyebrow lifted at the words. Instead, of answering, he looked pointedly out the window. The sprinkling had stopped for the moment, but the clouds were still heavy.

Gilbert shrugged. "Okay, so we might get a little wet. You're not scared, are you?"

Roderich nearly pouted at that, an expression that actually surprised Gilbert. He didn't let it show, but he grinned as he waited for a real answer from Roderich.

Finally, the brunet sighed and nodded. "A walk sounds nice," he admitted, his voice a bit softer than before.

Gil grinned and gave a short nod of confirmation and popped the last bite of his cake into his mouth. The waitress had already brought them the check, and Gilbert had paid for them. Now, he waited for Roderich to finish his own cake, then jumped up and held out a hand to him.

The brunet looked like he was going to ignore it at first, but then he gently placed his own pale hand into it. Gilbert's grin widened at that.

The first light sprinkling was beginning again as they stepped out into the cool air, but neither let it bother him. Roderich wiped away a drop on his cheek a bit stiffly, but didn't say anything. Gilbert was glad, though his own hand had been dropped for the Austrian to do so.

Despite the cold drops coming down, the temperature was nearly perfect. The streets were clearing out again, leaving the two of them alone. The albino wore a goofy grin as they walked, the only sounds being the slap of his sneakers and the clip of Roderich's boots. What kind of guy wore boots, anyway?

"It's coming down harder," Roderich commented finally. Gil resisted making the obvious joke about his word choice; again, not a great topic of conversation for a first date.

"Yeah, a little," he agreed instead, looking up at the sky. A drop hit him squarely on the nose, and he blinked in surprise. A soft, muffled snort told him Roderich was laughing at him, and he smiled. Even if it was at his expense, it was something.

After a few minutes, Gilbert gathered the courage to reach over and take Roderich's hand. A thrill ran through him at the fact that the brunet didn't try to pull away. He closed his fingers around the hand that was almost as pale as his own and twice as thin. A wide, goofy grin spread over his features.

The rain started to come down a bit harder just a few moments later, making Roderich frown and press closer to the other boy. Gilbert switched Roderich's hand to his other, then wrapped the newly-freed arm around his shoulders. There was still noprotest, though Gilbert suspected that was partially just because the pianist just didn't like to get wet.

"Hey," he murmured in Roderich's ear after the silence had dragged on for a while, "Do you think we could do this again sometime?"

Roderich stopped and turned to him, one slim brow raised in surprise. "You're asking me out again when you haven't even taken me home this time?" he asked, a touch of incredulity in his voice.

Gilbert grinned back at him and shrugged. "Sure, why not? I like you enough an' all," he replied, covering his nervousness with false bravado.

Roderich stared at him for a moment, but then an actual smile spread across his face. The sight took Gilbert's breath away for a moment, and he found himself smiling as well.

"I suppose there might be a possibility," the brunet replied, his tone bordering on what Gilbert might almost dare to call playful. As far as the albino was concerned, that was about as good as a yes.

Smiling brightly, he began to lean in. Despite the rain soaking his jacket, Gil felt almost as if the sun was shining on the two of them. Even better, Roderich began to lean in as well.

Gilbert could almost feel Roderich's lips on his when a sudden crack of thunder made them both jump back, blushing.

Roderich looked away in embarrassment, two bright spots of color staining his smooth, pale cheeks. He played with one of the buttons on his shirt, still not looking at Gilbert as he mumbled, "Could you…take me home now?"


	13. The Thunderstorm Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Gil & Roderich are taking their walk, Antonio & Lovino are studying & "watching" the rain.

Fools Like Us

13- The Thunderstorm Outside

Antonio found himself staring out the window, watching the raindrops pelt the glass with a steady, methodical rhythm. The pencil in Lovino's hand scratched across the page, lulling him into a contented daze as he sat cross-legged on the bed, back propped against the wall and arms wrapped around his tomato-shaped pillow. Lovino hadn't asked him anything in a while, and he couldn't help but hope that the younger Italian was finally starting to get the hang of his assignments.

The thought made him pause, a small frown spreading across his face. Of course he wanted Lovino to do well in his classes, but once his grades picked up, he wouldn't have any reason to spend any more of his time with Antonio—or, in his own words, "waste it."

A soft sigh escaped the Spaniard's lips, closely followed by his tongue as it darted out to wet the rough, dry surface. Suddenly, he felt like curling in on himself. But that was just the rain, right? If it were sunny, he would be his usual cheerful self and hang over Lovino's shoulder like an overly attentive parent.

As he watched Lovino, a crash of thunder echoed through the room. Antonio jumped; had Lovino just jumped? He frowned slightly and sat up, watching the Italian more closely. He was sure he was seeing things—there was no way the feisty Italian was afraid of thunder, right?

The lights flickered, and a moment later, another roll of thunder blasted through the room. Lovino let out a tiny squeak this time, so quietly that Antonio would have missed it if he hadn't been completely focused on the other boy. The Spaniard stood and moved up behind him, wrapping his arms around Lovino's waist and prompting him to jump again.

"Hey—What the hell do you think you're doing, bastard!?" Lovino squawked, squirming in the older boy's arms. The next ear-splitting boom made him freeze, and before he could stop himself, he turned and buried his face in Antonio's shoulder.

"Lovi, are you afraid of thunder?" the green-eyed boy asked softly, running his fingers lightly through the straight, dark locks.

"O-of course not!" Lovino snapped, but his voice shook and he refused to lift his head. An indignant huff, muffled by Antonio's arm, broke the silent in the room after his lie, and Antonio couldn't help but smile softly.

"Why don't we watch a movie or something?" he suggested, shifting slightly and tilting Lovino's head up towards him. The Italian's eyes were wide and his lip trembled, and it was difficult for Antonio to resist the urge to kiss him. He focused on breathing in and out as he waited almost nervously for Lovino's answer. Maybe he could get the younger boy to snuggle with him—that would definitely make this seem more like a date, and then maybe Lovino wouldn't be so nervous about the idea of dating him.

Lovino rolled his eyes, but the action seemed more forced than usual. "Whatever. If that's what you want to do instead of studying, I—" he broke off and jumped again as thunder interrupted him, then continued in a much tinier voice, "Okay…"

Antonio's smile widened despite Lovino's obvious discomfort, and he quickly tightened his grip on the younger brunet's waist for a moment. The light blush that colored Lovino's cheeks darkened immediately, and he mumbled something to himself about how Antonio needed to get a damn teddy bear or something. The Spaniard ignored him, jumping up and moving over to the TV. His hands shaking slightly, Lovino got up and followed him.

"What do you want to watch?" Antonio asked, gesturing to the collection stacked next to the TV with a bright smile. Lovino pursed his lips and crouched next to it, eyeing the titles critically. After a moment, he mumbled, "You actually watch this crap?"

Finally, blushing, he tugged out one of the DVDs and handed it to Antonio without looking at him. The Spaniard bit back a chuckle as he say the cover. Somehow, it didn't surprise him that Lovino had picked Labyrinth—who didn't have a weakness for David Bowie?

Without commenting on the choice, he booted up the entire system and put the DVD in. He could hear Lovino moving things around behind him, but it wasn't until he turned around that he saw the Italian had dragged two of the beanbag chairs together and grabbed a few blankets. Antonio's heart leaped; maybe he did want to make this like a date.

He smiled and settled into the beanbag Lovino hadn't claimed. The Italian had curled his knees up to his chest and refused to look at Antonio, but when the Spaniard sat, he held an arm out to offer the other half of the large blanket wrapped around his own shoulders. Antonio's smile brightened, and he quickly wrapped it around himself as well. His heart fluttered as his arm brushed against Lovino's, and for a moment, he felt almost as nervous as the Italian acted.

Before he could take advantage of the situation and wrap an arm around Lovino's waist, thunder had him practically crawling into Antonio's lap anyway. He quickly wrapped his arms around the Italian's slender torso, making soft shushing noises in his ear as he reached for the remote and started the movie. Slowly, Lovino began to relax as the first song played and the camera panned down over the cloudy skies of Sarah's world.

"It's only forever, it's not long at all…"

By the time the movie ended, Antonio couldn't help but wonder if Lovino had fallen asleep. As the thunder moved away, his frightened starts had become less violent and eventually ceased altogether. Still, he didn't move out of Antonio's lap; he just settled his head on the Spaniard's shoulder instead of hiding it in his chest.

As the credits rolled, Lovino finally stirred, and Antonio was the one who almost jumped this time. "I thought you were asleep," he admitted sheepishly, looking down at the Italian, "How are you feeling?"

Lovino let out a soft grumble that didn't really tell the other anything, burying his face in Antonio's shoulder. The Spaniard smiled, running his hand through the other's hair. For a moment they sat like that, neither moving.

Antonio found himself simply enjoying the other's company and wishing that things like this would happen more often. It wasn't that Lovino was prickly all the time, but the way he pressed against Antonio was unusual. He trailed his fingers up and down the Italian's spine, tracing each ridge and valley in his musculature as if trying to memorize it. He almost pouted when Lovino finally looked up, changing their position just enough that he felt as if those gentle touches might not be welcome anymore.

"I'm hungry," Lovino mumbled, surprising him enough to make him laugh.

"I'll make you something, okay?" he assured him, his expression warm, "You can stay here, alright?" The storm had subsided, but he was still reluctant to untangle himself.

Lovino didn't seem particularly keen on the idea either. It took several moments for him to finally pull back, taking the blanket with him. He stretched, his shirt riding up and granting Antonio a glimpse of his tanned, toned stomach, and moved to Antonio's bed. "Alright, fine," he mumbled, pulling the blanket around himself again, "Go on then."

Antonio chuckled softly, standing with a slight wince-his legs were cramped from having been in one position for so long.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he assured Lovino softly, once again running a hand lightly through the Italian's hair. Taking a chance, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to the top of his head. Lovino shifted slightly, but didn't protest, and a wide grin spread over Antonio's face as he practically bounced down the stairs.

In the kitchen, however, he paused. What was he going to make? Honestly, he wasn't even sure what Lovino liked...He decided to stick with what he knew of Italian cuisine and just make pasta. Nodding to himself as if he'd come to an important decision, he began gathering ingredients and got to work.

He hadn't gotten too far when he realized he wasn't alone. He was standing in front of the stove, waiting for the water for the pasta to boil, when Lovino suddenly leaned against him. He was still wrapped in the blanket, a somewhat distracted expression on his face.

"Is everything alright?" Antonio asked softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Lovino nodded, his expression unusually soft as he looked up at the Spaniard.

"Si. Just...thanks..." he murmured, resting his head on Antonio's shoulder.

Antonio smiled brightly, feeling his chest swell with happiness. Trying not to make too much of the situation and upset the Italian, he turned back to the pasta. "De nada, Lovi."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, this chapter is short...Since I've been rping Romano, my ships have kind of changed, but I promise I'm not going to just let it drop. If you want to give me some motivation though, you can always review or talk to me at felovabriel on tumblr~


	14. Words You Could Never Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roderich has a few hesitations about his relationship with Gilbert, but Elizaveta convinces him to take a step forward anyway.

Fools Like Us

14- Words You Could Never Say

Roderich stared blankly at the smooth white keys in front of him, finally reaching out and pressing one down with more force than necessary. He winced at the note that echoed through the room; it seemed too high to reflect his feelings. That hadn't been his intention in the first place, of course, but there was something satisfying about music reflecting one's feelings. He hit a lower note, relaxing when he found it more soothing on his ears.

A soft sigh escaped him as he sat up straighter, placing both hands on the piano and beginning to play a low, soft melody.

"What's that?" asked a soft voice suddenly, making him jump and hit the wrong key. He looked up to see Elizaveta leaning against the piano, a tiny smile on her lips that didn't do anything to hide her concern. She waited a moment to see if he would answer, then continued, "It's not Chopin, so you're not angry..."

Roderich dropped his gaze again, stroking the keys. "It's something I wrote myself..." he admitted softly, ignoring the strands of hair that tickled his cheeks.

Elizaveta waited another moment, then huffed out a sigh and joined him on the piano bench-pushing him aside to do so. He let out a soft yelp, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment and indignation. His stepsister wasn't moving though, so he eventually settled down with a soft huff.

"It's Gilbert," he admitted finally, his eyes focused stubbornly on the keys in front of him.

The girl beside him stiffened immediately, her bright green eyes flashing. She turned to face him, gripping his shoulders tightly enough to make him wince. "What did he do?"

Roderich shook his head quickly, trying to find the words that would help him explain how he was feeling. "I-it's not anything he did..." he murmured finally, s somewhat distant look in his eyes, "It's...how I feel about him..."

Elizaveta blinked, confused by his explanation. Somehow, she'd never expected something like that to produce such a despondent mood. Wasn't a crush supposed to be a good thing when the person apparently returned your feelings? She sighed softly, confused but determined to help. Softly, she prompted, "I thought you liked him...?"

Roderich shot her a look that was somewhere between embarrassment and annoyance. "I do," he huffed back, his cheeks coloring, "I just...don't know if he feels the same."

"He's the one who asked you out, right?" she asked with a small frown, trying to get to the bottom of the situation with simple questions, "Has he kissed you?"

Roderich nodded at the first question, but the second turned his cheeks bright red and he actually let out a little squeak-she'd have to tell Gill about that one later.

"N-no!"

"Why not?" she pressed, trying not to let a grin spread over her face. She loved hearing about the love lives of people close to her, especially since she'd never been able to stay in one place long enough to have much of one herself.

Roderich let out a huff, looking away from her stubbornly. He didn't really want to answer that if he didn't have to, but he knew Elizaveta wouldn't give up on it now that the thought was in her mind. He played with his sleeve awkwardly for a few moments, trying to put of the inevitable.

"I-I panicked," he admitted finally, his normally pale cheeks burning a bright red that made his step-sister worry that he might pass out, "I-it was raining, and it was the first date, and I just...panicked..."

Elizaveta bit back a laugh at the explanation; really, she never thought Roderich of all people would lose his cool over something like kissing, especially if it was the obnoxious albino he'd somehow developed a crush on.

"Do you want to?" she asked instead, her voice surprisingly gentle and understanding even as she nudged him with an elbow. Roderich looked up at her, eyes wide and uncertain as he searched her face for...something. Honestly, she wasn't sure what he could possibly be afraid of-not from her, anyway.

"Yes," he admitted finally, quietly. He knew Elizaveta was the last person he should expect judgment from, but he did anyway. After all, hadn't she had a crush on Gilbert when they were younger? And he'd felt the same...Thinking of it that way made Roderich feel like the odd one out, as if he didn't belong in whatever group they seemed to make up. He placed his hands on the keyboard again, grimacing as he realized they were shaking. She was definitely going to laugh at him now...

"Why don't you ask him to the dance?"

Roderich blinked. Stared. Blinked again.

"Wh-what?" he managed finally, his voice breathless. It wasn't hard to see how her words had stunned him. It seemed so simple and...like it could go wrong so easily. He groaned, dropping his head onto the keyboard and making the hammers inside strike the wires with a loud, discordant sound that made him wince. Damn, if he hadn't looked like an idiot before...

Elizaveta finally let out a laugh at that, a soft, tinkling sound that somehow didn't make Roderich feel like a fool for showing such weakness in front of her.

"Trust me, he'd be so excited!" she gushed, her bright green eyes lighting up at the thought. For a moment, Roderich wondered if she was really over her feelings-but then again, she tended to get excited over these things even if she didn't know anyone involved. "You might even get to see him in a suit!"

With that, she suddenly jumped up to do something else, leaving Roderich to ponder the possibility. Gilbert probably would look nice if he cleaned up a bit, he couldn't help but think. He hesitated, his fingers tapping the keys lightly-not hard enough to produce any substantial sound-and finally got to his feet. He retreated to his room, not wanting anyone to overhear him making a fool of himself.

His fingers were still trembling as he found the German's number and hit 'call,' and he pressed the phone to his ear a little harder than necessary as he listened to it ring. He'd almost given up and was starting to pull it away when Gilbert's familiar, breathless voice answered.

"Hey, Roddy. Miss me so much already?" Gilbert asked immediately, the smirk obvious in his voice even when he sounded completely winded. For a moment, Roderich mind wandered and he couldn't help but wonder what the other had been up to. Shaking the thought away quickly, he scoffed into the phone.

"Please, I'm not nearly as desperate as you," he retorted, trying to save face. He heard a low chuckle on the other end, but at least the albino wasn't laughing directly into the phone. Still, the brunet's cheeks flushed, and he transferred the phone to his other ear to give himself a moment to think.

"Anyway, I just wanted to ask you something," Roderich continued finally, glad Gilbert wasn't actually here-there's no way he would be able to live it down if the other knew how badly his hands were shaking just thinking about what he was going to ask. For a moment, he wondered if he could even go through with it. He gripped his sheets tightly to stop his hand from shaking, but that didn't help the clammy feeling of his palm much.

"Yeah? Shoot," Gil urged, sounding curious now. There was a rustle of movement through the line. In his mind's eye, Roderich could see him settling down and leaning towards whatever side he held the phone on.

The Austrian boy swallowed hard, slightly annoyed by the way he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. Who was the last person who'd made him feel so nervous and vulnerable? Basch? He shook the thought away quickly, not wanting to dwell on it. After all, it would only end up reminding him of all that could go wrong if he let Gilbert get so close to him.

"Ah...that dance that the school's having," he said finally, getting back on track, "I...I w-wanted to know if you were going. Or if you wanted to. Maybe with me?" His voice squeaked a little at the end, absolutely mortifying him. He buried his face in his pillow, keeping his phone pressed to his ear. He already wanted to go back in time and forget he'd even done that; he sounded like such a fool.

"Wait, you're asking me to the dance?" Gilbert sounded surprised, and Roderich mumbled an almost unintelligible reply. The other probably didn't even hear it, but Roderich could practically hear the wide grin in his voice as he continued.

"Yeah! I definitely wanna go with you! So, what, the whole nine yards with a tux and a limo and all that crap, or you just want it to be a simple thing?" he asked. The fact that he'd even thought to offer to make a big deal of it surprised Roderich, but it also comforted him. He sat up again, tugging at a loose thread on his comforter.

"I wouldn't mind seeing you all dressed up, assuming you can do that," he replied, a thin layer of snark hiding his relief. He was still trembling but for a different reason now. Gilbert laughed loudly at that, and Roderich was surprised to feel a smile spread across his own face as well.

"You'll be surprised by how totally awesome I can look!" Gilbert declared confidently, prompting an amused huff from the brunet.

"We'll see about that," he replied simply, still smiling, "We don't have to do the limo, though-your car is fine. But we can discuss it more later, ja?" Honestly, he needed a moment now to let it sink in and marvel at himself for actually having the courage to ask. That, and Elizaveta would want to know everything. She'd probably want to help plan the evening too.

Luckily, Gilbert agreed, and they hung up quickly after that. Still smiling, Roderich combed his fingers through his ruffled hair and went to find his step-sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished this, so I didn't really take the time to edit. If there's anything weird, you should definitely let me know! I did spell-check though, so it shouldn't be too awful. Hopefully updates will be more frequent now-I'm going to be taking some time off from rping to work on this~
> 
> On another note, I've been thinking about what to do after this. I have some femslash ideas for Homestuck (VrisFef) and Supernatural (Annaby), but I'm a huge sucker for Romano rarepairs, so it will probably be one of those. Right now, it looks like people want a short Turkmano fic next, then Framano and then maybe Prumano. You can ask about plots or tell me what you want to see in a review or at felovabriel on tumblr though!


	15. They Hold the Loudest Tones

Lovino could feel Antonio's eyes on him. Not that there was anything new about that, per se, but the fact that he had yet to say a word about what was obviously bothering him made the Italian edgy.

Finally, he threw down his pencil and turned to glare at the Spaniard. "What?" he snapped, trying to hide whatever nervousness or worry he felt with his usual brash attitude.

Those beautiful green eyes blinked in surprise, as if their owner had been caught of guards by the other boy noticing his preoccupation. Jeez, was this guy's whole family as oblivious as he was or something? Lovino rolled his eyes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Okay, spill. Why are you staring at me?"

Antonio gave an awkward laugh, ruffling his chocolate curls awkwardly. "Because you're so cute?" he offered finally, his tone giving away the lie-not that it stopped Lovino's cheeks from flaring a bright red anyway.

"Bullshit!" he snapped, only getting angrier now that Antonio had gotten him to blush. Antonio frowned, and for a moment, Lovino felt almost guilty. He shook it off quickly, turning and beginning to pack up his things.

"I'll leave," he threatened. Seeing as all his writing utensils were already in his bag, the warning seemed to come a bit late.

"What? No!" Antonio cried, jumping to his feet and crossing the room in two quick strides. He threw his arms around the younger brunet, making him freeze in place. By now, he was more or less used to being suddenly engulfed in Antonio's warm, strong arms, but every touch-no matter how brief-had a way of making his pulse skyrocket. He could feel his cheeks burning, and he pushed weakly at the Spaniard's chest in a half-assed attempt to save face. A handful of words murmured in his ear in a soft, velvety voice brought him to a dead stop again, his hazel eyes widening.

"I just don't want you to say no."

Okay, maybe a gentler approach would work best. He turned his head slightly, trying to get a look at the other's face, but Antonio had buried his face in Lovino's shoulder, and all the Italian could see were thick curls that nearly brushed his nose.

"Try me," he offered quietly, his tone speaking volumes more than his words.

Antonio peeked up at him shyly, one brilliant emerald eye catching the light and making Lovino's breath stutter. For once in his life, he managed to wait patiently for the other to speak.

"Lovino," Antonio began with a hesitation that was unusual for him, "Will you..."

He paused, moving to face the Italian and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he dropped his gaze. Lovino's heart pounded in his chest. This was so different from the confident, cheerful Spaniard he was used to. Finally, Antonio took a deep breath and plowed on.

"Lovino Vargas, will you go to the school dance with me?"

For a moment, Lovino's breath caught in his throat and he couldn't answer. Antonio looked so determined, his lips set in a tense pout and his eyes burning into the Italian's as he waited for his answer. For a crazy moment, Lovino had the urge to throw himself at the other and maybe even kiss him.

That thought jarred him out of his shock, and he cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest. He made Antonio wait for another moment, making him squirm as punishment for springing a question like that on him so suddenly.

"If nobody better asks, I guess I could show up with you," he replied finally, studying an imaginary speck of dust on his sleeve to keep from turning as red as that stupid tomato pillow he could see out of the corner of his eye, "Out of pity, of course-I doubt you'll manage to land anyone half as good as me, especially not with the time you've got left.

In all honesty, he'd already been asked once-though he was sure it was just because Alfred didn't think he could get that stuck-up British jerk to go with him-but he'd turned the blond down in hopes that Antonio would get his shit together and ask. He had to do something to hang onto his dignity though, especially if word got out that he'd been waiting on an airhead.

Antonio didn't seem to mind though, judging by the way his smile blazed and he suddenly threw his arms around the Italian again, spinning him around until Lovino shrieked to be put down.

Antonio set him down, but continued to smile brightly as he watched the younger brunet brush strands of flyaway hair from his bright red face.

"S-stop looking so damn happy!" the Italian snapped, embarrassed. Antonio just kept smiling at him, reaching out to gently cup his cheeks. Lovino's heart jumped to his throat for a moment, and he wondered if the older boy was going to kiss him.

He leaned in, but instead of pressing his lips to Lovino's, he pressed their foreheads together for a moment.

"Thank you," he murmured, the obvious affection and happiness in his voice making the Italian blush.

"Sh-shut up...I'm just going with you out of pity," he lied, his voice giving him away. For a moment, he gave up the façade and pressed closer to the Spaniard.

At home later that night, he could hear his brother through the wall as he sat alone in his room. It sounded as if Feliciano was calling his boyfriend again, and as usual, he sounded happier than Lovino felt he had any right to be.

It seemed like an age before he hung up, but once he had, Lovino gathered his courage and went to his brother's room.

"Hey, Feli?" he asked softly, leaning against the door frame, "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Feliciano looked up curiously, sitting up to face his brother. Lovino rarely used his nickname or that softer tone of voice unless he wanted to talk about something important.

"Of course you can," he chirped, patting the bed. Part of him worried about what could be bothering his older brother, but he simply smiled in hopes of lightening the mood.

Lovino hesitated another moment in the doorway, but then he approached and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're going to that school dance with...with Ludwig, right?" Lovino asked, obviously struggling not to use any of the slurs he usually called the German.

The question caught Feliciano off guard, and he blinked a couple times in surprise before a bright smile spread across his face. "Si, we are!" he gushed happily, "but why do you care?"

Lovino hesitated another moment before he sighed and glanced away. "I, ah...said I'd go with Antonio," he finally admitted in a mumble, playing with the hem of his shirt.

Feliciano immediately let out a squeal and threw himself at his older brother, winding his arms around him so tightly Lovino nearly struggled to breathe.

"L-let go!" he snapped, his face coloring as it had so often earlier that day, "I-it's not that important..."

"Yes it is!" Feliciano retorted, refusing to so much as loosen his grip. Lovino struggled for another moment, then gave up and let his brother hug him.

"You finally like someone who likes you," the younger said eventually, smiling as he finally pulled back.

The color of Lovino's cheeks deepened, and he let out an indignant huff. "It's not like that hasn't happened before..."

Feliciano gave him a look that said he knew perfectly well what Lovino's love life had been like up to this point, making the older Italian blush deeper and look away.

"Okay, so maybe this is a little different..." he admitting finally, hunching his shoulders as if that could fend off his brother's stare.

Feliciano smiled and gave Lovino another quick hug, his heart swelling with happiness for his grumpy older brother. Lovino pushed weakly at his chest, but didn't seem to be trying particularly hard to dislodge the other boy.

"S-so...What am I supposed to do, anyway?" he asked finally, glancing up almost shyly. He couldn't believe he actually had to ask for his little brother's help on this.

Feliciano shrugged, seemingly unperturbed. "Just show up and look nice," he suggested, "If you and Toni want to do something before or after, that's between you guys."

Lovino nodded slowly, processing the suggestion. Finally he smiled and nodded, and Feliciano's face lit up at seeing that he'd been able to help his brother. It took a few more hours for Lovino to finally get free of the younger's questions and excited suggestions about where Lovino's relationship should be headed, but for once, he wasn't particularly bothered by it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this up last week, but I ended up going on one last vacation before school and didn't work on it at all...So to make up for it, I'm hoping to have two chapters out this week, but don't put too much faith in me because I'm lazy and busy and would rather lay on the ground and bitch about the world.


	16. You Say You'll Write but It's Ink On a Page

Fools Like Us

16- You Say You'll Write but It's Ink On a Page

"Hey, are you even listening to me?"

Antonio poked Francis's shoulder, a small, concerned frown on his lips. His tone wasn't the usual judgmental one that people usually used when asking questions like that, but it still made the blond Frenchman jump and look up at him in surprise. He blinked a few times, a haze of distraction clearing from his strangely dull blue eyes.

"What? Of course I am, mon ami," Francis replied, but even his voice didn't have its usual lively sound. Antonio's frown deepened, and even Gilbert looked up from the comic he'd been pouring over.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked Francis, his words blunt, but his expression worried. He hauled himself up from the floor, crossing the room to settle on the bed on the other side of his French friend. He wasn't as physical as either of his friends, but he rested a hand gently on the blond's shoulder.

Francis attempted a small, reassuring smile, but it fell flat and slipped from his lips before he could even halfway convince anyone, even himself.

"You don't have to be okay," Antonio said suddenly, surprising the other two. Francis' eyes widened slightly as he looked up at him, simply staring for a moment as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. It was so unlike the normally cheerful Spaniard, but he seemed sincere.

Antonio shrugged like he wasn't bothered by their stares, his smile shrinking and turning a bit awkward.

"You lost someone important to you," he pointed out softly, frowning as Francis winced at the reminder, "I mean...no one can really understand just how you're feeling. When mi madre died, Papá wasn't okay for a long time. Neither was I, but I was little and didn't really understand. Papá told me you have to take time to grieve and give yourself a chance to get closure..."

Both the Frenchman and the German continued to stare at him. They knew Antonio wasn't as stupid or oblivious as he seemed sometimes, but to hear such good emotional advice coming from him surprised them a bit. He blinked back at them innocently, as if he couldn't comprehend their stunned silence. Finally, Gilbert shrugged it off and turned to face the boy who was still hurting deeply.

"Yeah, what he said," he seconded, trying to smile sincerely at the blond. It wasn't that he didn't feel as much sympathy as anyone else, but that he usually wore an expression somewhere between a grin and a smirk. Showing a more sensitive side had a tendency to make him uncomfortable, but he knew his friend needed it.

"Why don't you write a letter?" Antonio suggested suddenly.

Gilbert shot him a look of disbelief. "To who? Scheiße, for a minute, I thought you actually had a handle on this," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"No, really!" Antonio protested, looking as hurt as he ever did, "Papá had a therapist who said it's a good way to get things out! You write down all your thoughts and feelings so they're not just rattling around in your head. It clears your mind and helps you feel better."

Francis stared at him blankly for a moment, but then finally, he nodded. "Oui, I…I think that would help," he admitted softly, his voice barely more than a sigh. Still, the response earned a soft, relieved smile from Antonio.

"We'll leave you to it," Gilbert told him, grabbing Antonio's arm and dragging him out of the room. The Spaniard followed without protest, shooting the blonde one last smile.

When they were gone, Francis found himself staring at the wall for a few more moments. He felt sluggish and disconnected, and he knew it was affecting more than just the free time he spent with his friends.

Heaving a sigh, he pulled himself to his feet and crossed the room to his desk, stumbling slightly. That was embarrassing, not to mention completely out of character for him. He was glad the other two hadn't seen that, but it only made him more desperate to reach his desk and pour all his roiling emotions out onto the page.

He slumped heavily into the seat, wincing at his own lack of grace. Even with how far gone he was at the moment, he had the decency to be ashamed. He sighed and closed his eyes, simply taking a few deep breaths to calm himself before he picked up the blue glitter pen and a notebook filled with poetry and other writings in his own flowing script.

My Dearest Jeanne,

I miss you. I knew something like this would happen, that it would hurt to lose you, but I underestimated how much pain there would be. Every moment cuts me so deeply, and after those few and far between moments where I am able to forget, remembering hurts twice as badly. My chest aches ever moment, like it almost hurts to breathe, and I would give anything to have you back in my life.

But you wouldn't want that, would you? You were always stronger than me, more prepared to face anything that came at you. I wouldn't want to put you through all that pain again either. I'm sorry; to think that way is selfish of me.

I still remember the first day I met you. I suppose you're not really all that special, but to me, I couldn't see you as anything short of flawless. You caught my eye from the first moment, and I knew you would only become more important to me.

I was so happy when you agreed to spend time with me. Even now, I can't put it in to words. You were...so bright and full of life...I was almost afraid to hold you in my arms, even in those rare times when you let me. You should have had so much longer to spread that light and hope, my dear.

I wanted to give you everything. I selfishly wanted to keep you to myself.

You would never let me say it, but in some way, I need to. We both knew it anyway, non? Jeanne, ma cherie Jeanne

I love you.

Francis.

The page was dotted with tears, and the words blurred in front of the blond, but he didn't notice until it became almost impossible to read. He'd been so focused on pouring out the things that filled his mind that he hadn't even seen the page itself. He stared blankly at the finished project for a moment, but even as his entire body seemed to throb with hurt, he realized the exercise would help. Soon, he would be able to reconcile himself with the change, even if he never forgot.

He lifted the page to his lips, the tears that were still wet causing the ink to smear slightly, and pressed his lips to the finished product.

Suddenly, a fresh wave of tears overwhelmed him. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to hold them back. He slumped over the desk, his entire body shaking with sobs, and let himself feel the pain of his loss for a moment. He tried so often to be selfless, but here, alone in his room with his feeling spread out in front of him in blue ink, he let himself be selfish in his pain.

In the living room, his friends waited patiently. They exchanged a pained glance as Francis' sobs filled the room, and for a split second, Gilbert wondered if they should turn on the TV to drown him out.

Finally, silence slowly took over for the choked, broken sounds coming from the young Frenchman's room. When it had been quiet for nearly ten minutes, Antonio finally stood and returned to the door, rapping the wood lightly with his knuckles. Gilbert followed close behind, his expression still twisted with worry.

"Francis?" Antonio called softly through the door, resting his forehead lightly against the wood. There was no answer, though both boys listened closely. Antonio tried the handle, and the door swung open slowly to reveal the blond hunched over his desk, his shoulders rising and falling slowly.

"He fell asleep?" Gilbert asked incredulously, his voice soft despite his tone.

Antonio simply shrugged, already making his way over to the bed to grab a blanket. He would have tried to carry Francis to bed, but Gilbert wasn't exactly gentle, and he didn't want to wake the blond. "Crying is exhausting, you know..."

Gilbert nodded, his expression sobering again. He watched Antonio wrapped the blanket around their friend's shoulders and shift his head so his neck wouldn't ache too badly when he woke.

"Should we read it...?" Gilbert asked curiously, trying to see around Francis' shoulders for a glimpse of whatever he'd written his feelings on. Antonio shot him a look, his bright green eyes flashing uncharacteristically.

"Of course not," he hissed, as quietly as he could manage, "That's personal."

Gilbert held his hands up defensively, rolling his eyes. "I know," he grumbled, "I just thought we could help if we knew."

"We don't read your diaries, so you shouldn't read things like this," Antonio replied, unusually sharp. Gilbert sighed, but then nodded in understanding.

Antonio finally stood and made his way back to the door, grabbing Gilbert's arm on the way out. "Come on, let's go," he chirped, voice still lowered so as not to disturb the sleeping blond, "Let's figure out what to do for the dance. We'll really have to impress Lovi and Roderich, no?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, I somehow managed to crank out two chapters this week! I'm sure Francis really would have had a lot more to say, but I didn't know what else that would be, so I covered what I thought would be really important. I promise things will go back to being fluffy after this!


	17. Fools Like Me, We Love Blindly

Lovino's hands shook slightly as he stepped into the gym, hand in hand with Antonio. His tie felt too tight and his jacket seemed too warm, especially as they entered the dark, crowded room. Antonio seemed unaffected by nervousness, though with his own hands shaking so badly, it wasn't as if Lovino would have been able to tell if the Spaniard's were as well. All he could see was the way the taller boy's eyes shone and that there was a bounce in his step as he entered with the normally grumpy Italian on his arm. They'd already gathered a few stares, and Lovino shrank into Antonio's shadow as he shot glares in return.

"What do you want to do first?" the older brunet asked excitedly. He looked down at Lovino, his green eyes shining so warmly it made the Italian's breath catch.

"L-let's just, ah...get something to drink..." he mumbled, embarrassed by the way he reacted so strongly to Antonio.

It had been worse lately-he jumped every time Antonio touched him, his heart pounding from something he couldn't identify, except that he knew it wasn't fear. His stomach fluttered every time the Spaniard looked at him. Worst of all, he'd had way too many intrusive thoughts about kissing or being kissed by him.

Antonio immediately dragged the younger brunet over to the table, ladling the pink punch into two glasses. Lovino gave it a suspicious look and sniffed at the liquid, having heard enough horror stories to make him suspicious. Antonio gulped his own down in a few oversized sips, then blinked at Lovino in confusion.

"Why aren't you drinking yours?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Lovino blinked at him for a moment, then snorted. "You aren't even a little suspicious of drinks that have been exposed to idiotic teenagers?" he asked, making a sweeping gesture at the room.

Antonio just shrugged, filling his own cup again. "What, you're not used to alcohol or something?" he asked curiously, though he sipped his second drink more slowly, "Don't worry; I'd take care of you."

Lovino scoffed and rolled his eyes, his cheeks coloring lightly. "That's not what I meant," he grumbled, sounding exasperated, "Just...shut up, okay?"

Antonio shrugged, seemingly not bothered by Lovino's bad mood. Maybe he could see right through the act to how nervous the Italian was. Lovino watched the liquid in his plastic cup slosh as his hand shook, then decided he had nothing to lose. At least alcohol might loosen him up a bit.

"Better?" Antonio asked, his voice soft as his breath brushed Lovino's ear. Lovino was glad he'd already swallowed, because otherwise, he probably would have spit the punch all over his date. His cheeks flushed at the thought, and he pulled away slightly and cleared his throat.

"Y-yeah, I guess..." he mumbled, looking away from the Spaniard stubbornly. Antonio simply smiled, slipping his hand into the Italian's. Despite his embarrassment, Lovino let him.

If not for Gil's hand in his, Roderich might have had a much harder time walking into the gym that night. As it was, his palms felt too clammy and hot, but he continued to grip Gil's hand tightly. The Albino just smiled and leaned over to kiss the Austrian's cheek lightly, murmuring encouraging words in his ear. Though still shaking slightly, Roderich could feel himself relaxing. Somehow, Gilbert was able to calm him the way no one else could.

Gilbert could see Antonio and Lovino over by the punch, but he didn't make a move towards them. A friend might have helped him relax, but it also might have made him more obnoxious, and that was the last thing he wanted to do when he was trying to impress Roderich. "So..." he murmured, bumping the brunet's hip with his own, "You dance much?"

Roderich's cheeks flamed at the thought, and he looked almost offended as he looked back at Gilbert. "I can waltz..." he mumbled finally, a bit embarrassed by his experience-or lack thereof, "I...don't think that's what people expect at times like this..."

Gilbert laughed, nodding and pulling Roderich over to the wall instead. "So...Do you want to just talk...?" he asked finally.

Roderich nodded shyly, his cheeks still pink. Anyone who knew them separately might have been stunned by the way they acted together. Gilbert was so much softer with Roderich, and Roderich seemed shier, even awkward. Normally he was so in control of himself it hurt, and he'd often had people poke fun at him for it. He'd expected Gilbert to do the same, and he had on occasion, but he also seemed to want more from him than Roderich was used to.

Roderich ran a hand through his hair and let out a slightly shaky breath, adjusting to the loud atmosphere. Even before he'd started spending time with Gilbert, he'd never really found himself comfortable in situations like this. His gaze darted up to the other's face shyly, and he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. Luckily, it was Gilbert who started the conversation, leaning against the wall and letting his eyes roam over Roderich for a moment.

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, his voice softer than the brunet was used to hearing it.

"You just did..." Roderich mumbled, the seemingly innocent words making his stomach turn. A tiny, insecure scowl twisted his features. Gilbert couldn't help but grin; Roderich was acting a bit like Lovino right now- _that_  he knew how to deal with.

Roderich let out a soft squeak as Gilbert's arms wrapped around him suddenly, and his cheeks flared a brighter red. He pushed weakly at the German's chest, but Gilbert wasn't letting go, and in all honesty, Roderich wasn't entirely sure he wanted him to.

"F-fine, just spit out your question, you oaf..." he huffed, glancing away. Luckily, no one seemed to be watching them. Gilbert chuckled softly, taking a moment to simply enjoy having Roderich in his arms before he continued.

"I just wanted to know how you felt about...you know, us..." Gilbert admitted softly, his own insecurities suddenly making an appearance on his face. He tried to control his expression so he wouldn't look so distressed when Roderich looked up at him, but it was difficult.

The brunet's expression softened at seeing he wasn't the only one confused by...whatever they had. They'd been close to kissing so often, but even now, he couldn't bring himself to press his lips to Gilbert's. His gaze lingered on his thin lips though, and unconsciously, his tongue darted out to wet his own lips. Gilbert noticed the action, his own pale cheeks flushing lightly.

He leaned down slowly, causing Roderich's breath to catch in his throat. Everything seemed too fast, too hot, too stuffy. He couldn't breathe for a moment, but his body felt electrified with anticipation.

Then Gil's lips finally met his, and he reacted without thinking. He pulled him closer, his fingers curling into the jacket of the other man's suit, and he pushed himself up on his toes to deepen the kiss. Gilbert grinned against his lips, for a moment, winding his arms around the Austrian boy's waist and holding him tightly to his body as he deepened the kiss. Somehow, it still wasn't enough, but Roderich forced himself to pull back instead of slipping his tongue into the albino's mouth.

They stood facing each other, both panting, both with flushed cheeks. Gilbert looked simultaneously stunned and exhilarated, a lopsided grin on his face. Slowly, a smile spread across Roderich's face as well.  _Finally_...

"God, that was hot..." Gilbert purred in the brunet's ear, and Roderich could feel his breath brush over the shell of his ear. The Austrian flushed, but he was still grinning to himself. He hummed softly in agreement, though he felt a little silly doing so. He wondered if Gilbert would always have that effect on him, or if it would fade over time. Personally, he hoped he wouldn't.

"Sooo...Are we definitely a thing now?" Gilbert asked finally, a quiver of nervousness still evident in his voice, "I mean...Can I call you my boyfriend?"

Feeling Roderich nod against his chest elated Gil. He knew there was more in the Austrian's past that he didn't know about, things that he would have to discover over time, but he was willing to be patient. Besides, Roderich would be his first real boyfriend-the last thing he wanted to do was mess this up. Besides, if he did that, Elizaveta would probably hit him over the head with the nearest frying pan...

An uproar near the part of the floor people were dancing on caught their attention, breaking the moment. Gilbert had almost forgotten they were surrounded by their peers, and the reminder brought another light flush to his cheeks. Roderich seemed to have a better grip on the situation though, and was already peering over the crowds to see what the fuss was about.

"Isn't that your friend?" he asked, vaguely recognizing the mop of brown curls he could see around over the crowds.

Sure enough, it was Antonio and Lovino that had managed to capture everyone's attention. Their movements were loose and completely in sync with the music, and though neither had heard this song before, it was easy for them both to keep up with it. Both had a background in dance, and they moved together easily.

"You do this often?" Antonio asked with a small smile, leaning close to the Italian with a grin. Lovino smirked up at him, the high energy of the dance relaxing him a bit.

"I wouldn't say that..." he admitted, letting Antonio spin him around and pull him close, wrapping an arm comfortably around his waist. Lovino let out a short burst of laughter, his hazel eyes shining.

In the break between songs, Lovino found himself gazing up at the Spaniard. His eyes met the emerald orbs warmly, sending a jolt of warmth through him. He wasn't used to anyone looking at him like that; it made his breath catch and his eyes widen slightly. His hands rested lightly on Antonio's upper arms, and his gaze fell to his lips. He leaned up slightly...

And then the music started again, and Antonio swept him into the next dance. Fighting back disappointment, he went with it. It wasn't as if they were short on time.

Francis watched the students from a distance, his eyes lingering on Antonio and Lovino as they stole the attention of the majority of the crowd. He didn't notice Elizaveta approaching until he was right next to him, lightly brushing her fingertips over his shoulder. He jumped at the feeling, not having expected it, and looked down at her with wide eyes.

"Look," she began softly, a soft sigh on her lips, "I know you're probably not in the mood for this right now, but I thought you might like to dance a little? I mean, this was your idea, and I'm just here to keep an eye on those idiots." He jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and Francis followed it to see Gilbert standing near the wall with his arms wrapped around Roderich. As far as he could tell, they seemed to be getting along.

He turned back to Elizaveta with a smile, and this time, it was only slightly forced. "I'd like that," he agreed, straightening up and offering her his hand. Her green eyes lit up, and she slipped her hand into his eagerly.

"Might as well entertain ourselves somehow, right?" he asked, only half-jokingly. There was a slight shadow in her eyes, but something about her demeanor told Francis he shouldn't ask about it just now. Realizing that he was able to notice such small cues gave his confidence a bit of a boost, making him feel like things might not be as bad as they'd seemed lately.

"Of course," he agreed, a small grin tugging at his own lips, "Now, why don't we make every other boy in this room jealous of me? I must be so lucky to have you on my arm tonight, non?"

She nodded, smiling brightly, and he swept her easily into the next dance, drawing some of the attention that had been fixed on the boys from the Mediterranean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little later than intended, but I managed to get it out before my next self-imposed deadline! There are about 11 chapters to go, but I'm starting to think of what the next project will be. I really love Romano rarepairs, so it's probably going to be Prumano, Framano, or Turkmano, but I'm willing to take suggestions if anyone has something they want to see?
> 
> Hopefully I'm back on some kind of schedule now, but I might fall behind again since my birthday is on Thursday and I have plans. Anyway, keep an eye out for more Spamano fluff on Monday~


	18. The Cracks Don't Count

Antonio had to admit, he'd been more than a little surprised when Lovino had turned up on his doorstep the morning after the dance. Of course, that didn't stop him from grinning brightly and grabbing the Italian's arm, pulling him into the house and into his arms. Lovino yelped and protested, as he'd expected, but it took significantly less time for him to calm down today. Antonio smiled as he felt the younger boy slump into his chest, which was as close as he ever got to returning a hug.

"What did I do to deserve the pleasure of your company today?" he asked curiously, pulling back a bit to look down at the blushing Italian. Lovino glanced away stubbornly, a small, familiar pout on his lips.

"I have the day off, so I figured...m-maybe I could come see you without homework for once. A-as a thank you or something. Don't get the wrong idea, dammit!" he huffed, the last few words coming out in a rush as the color of his cheeks darkened considerably. Antonio tried not to laugh aloud at how adorable and energetic he found the other boy, but it was a difficult task.

"That sounds great!" he gushed instead, already pulling Lovino toward the stairs to his room, "Why don't we watch a movie or something? Or we could play a game..."

He continued to ramble on, but Lovino wasn't listening as closely as he might have with someone else. He didn't think Antonio would catch on to his real reason for coming around today; he was always so oblivious to emotional matters...He stole a quick glance at the Spaniard's face, but Antonio wasn't looking at him. He still held Lovino's hand, but his eyes were fixed straight ahead as they climbed the stairs and pushed their way into Antonio's room. He flopped onto the bed, nearly pulling Lovino on top of him. The younger brunet let out a muffled yelp of surprise, his heart pounding at their proximity. His mind screamed at him to kiss Antonio, but instead, he panicked and pushed back until there was more than a foot of space between them. Antonio looked only mildly disappointed-by now, he had a pretty good idea of what Lovino's boundaries were.

"So, what should we watch?" he asked, sitting up as he returned to the conversation he'd been trying to have with his unresponsive study partner-or could they be called friends now? He'd have to ask about that, but maybe once Lovino wasn't so tense.

"Wh-whatever you want. I don't care. I'll probably just fall asleep anyway..." Lovino replied hastily, forcing the words out before he really had a chance to think about them.

Antonio frowned, suddenly concerned, and Lovino cursed himself for speaking so recklessly.

"Ah, are you okay..."?" the Spaniard asked, leaning closer to him with an expression tense with concern, "I'm sorry; I shouldn't have kept you out so late last night..."

Lovino scoffed and rolled his eyes, shoving the older boy's shoulder lightly. "Don't worry about it..." he mumbled awkwardly, "It wasn't so bad..."

At that, Antonio's bright green eyes lit up again. "It wasn't?" he asked excitedly, leaning closer in a way that reminded Lovino of a puppy jumping at praise, "That's great! Maybe we can go out and do something again sometime!"

Lovino's heart jumped to his throat. Did that count as Antonio asking him out? He could only hope so. "Y-yeah, maybe..."

Antonio's eyes lit up again, but he looked a bit surprised as well. Lovino could understand; the Spaniard had probably never expected him to agree with something like that. Lovino glanced away to make it harder to see his blush, though by now, Antonio probably knew him well enough to recognize the creeping pink flush spreading over his ears and across the back of his neck. He picked at a loose thread on the other boy's comforter-he probably shouldn't, but he was feeling defiant at the moment. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he puffed out his cheeks stubbornly.

"Anyway," Antonio began finally, sitting up and apparently getting back on topic, "Want to watch a movie? You don't really seem like the gaming type."

Lovino considered the question for a moment. He could always get Antonio to cuddle with him during a movie...But if they played a game, maybe the Spaniard would wrap his arms around him to show him how to work the controls. The thought made his blush deepen, and he fidgeted a bit more. Then again, Antonio had been right when he said he didn't seem like the gaming type. Lovino had never liked them much, nor been any good at them.

"Yeah, a movie sounds good," he agreed finally, sitting up as well. He began combing through his hair with his fingers to straighten it after trying to hide his face in the sheets, but he froze when he felt Antonio's fingers over his own. The other boy gently brushed a few stray locks away from his eyes, his expression soft as he straightened Lovino's hair and admired his face. The Italian turned steadily redder, his voice caught in his throat. He couldn't yell at Antonio or even thank him.

"A-ah..." he managed finally, earning a soft chuckle.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Antonio apologized, holding his hands up in a way that was probably supposed to pacify Lovino. His smile didn't seem even remotely apologetic, however, but somehow, Lovino couldn't bring himself to care.

"It's okay..." he mumbled finally, looking away. He didn't see Antonio's expression light up, or the way he leaned in slightly as if to kiss the beautiful, stubborn Italian. The next Lovino knew, he was crouching on the floor in front of the TV, setting it to the DVD settings.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked, gesturing toward a collection on the other side of the room. Lovino picked something that sat across the top haphazardly, as if it had just been watched. If Antonio knew it well, that meant he would probably pay more attention to him, right? Lovino couldn't bring himself to particularly care about what it was.

Within a few minutes, they were settled next to each other on the bed, facing the TV. His hands shaking and his palms sweaty, Lovino scooted over until he was right up against Antonio's side, trying to wedge himself under his arm as discreetly as possible. A tiny smirk ghosted over the Spaniard's lips, but he didn't comment as he rested his arm gently over Lovino's shoulders.

The Italian tried not to let out a huff of disappointment. That wasn't even remotely enough to satisfy him; hell, Antonio had hugged him more tightly when he walked in the door. What the hell was this-some kind of test of his patience? Pouting slightly, he settled in to watch the movie.

Antonio, on the other hand, hadn't even noticed his distress. He'd settled in comfortably to watch the movie, his eyes lighting up even as it was just starting. Lovino had been right about his having seen it recently, but that didn't keep him from enjoying it as if it was the first time he'd seen it.

Lovino stared blankly at the screen for a few moments, his attention more focused on Antonio. "I don't get it," he complained finally, looking up at Antonio at an angle that put their lips mere millimeters apart, "What's supposed to be going on?"

Antonio looked down, jumping a bit in surprise as he realized how close the younger brunet was. He let out a slightly awkward laugh before explaining, running his fingers absently through the Italian's hair.

"Oh," Lovino mumbled softly when he'd finished, hoping Antonio would notice the way he kept his face upturned and his lips pouted slightly in what might have been confusion under other circumstances.

Unfortunately for him, the Spaniard was oblivious.

About halfway through the movie, Lovino gave up. Antonio wasn't going to notice his feelings. Here he was, finally ready to open up and maybe even kiss and cuddle the dark-haired older boy, but of course, nothing could be easy.

"Ah...I can't stay after all," he said suddenly, standing and slipping out of the other's grip.

Antonio looked surprised and, for a second, almost hurt. Lovino paused, but nothing changed for a few moments, so he simply cleared his throat and brushed his clothing off.

"I'll see you on Monday then?" he asked, his voice going quieter than he'd intended. Antonio offered a small smile and nodded, jumping up.

"Si, I'll see you out," he chirped.

Lovino shied back from his touch, shaking his head a bit. "No, I know the way..." he mumbled, starting to back out of the room, "Just...don't follow, okay?"

With that, he turned and practically scurried from the room, fighting back tears of frustration and self-loathing.

Antonio stared at the empty doorway, the smile he'd forced onto his features quickly fading. He'd been so happy to see Lovino on his doorstep this morning, but now...Well, he wasn't always so good at picking up on what people wanted from him. Or maybe he'd been too forward? Lovino was harder to understand than most people, and it was killing him. He was sure Francis would claim he was in love with the fiery Italian.

Of course, that left him to wonder if he really was.

He slumped back to the bed, staring blankly at the TV screen as the movie continued to play. He'd wanted so badly to hold Lovino close, to kiss him and make him smile the way he had the night before. He'd been so cute today that Antonio had barely been able to resist, especially when he looked up with that little pout...

Antonio sighed, letting his head fall into his hands.

Yes, he was definitely in love with Lovino.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this out yesterday, but...the only excuse it that Labor Day threw me off a bit and I didn't actually finish it until today. So, as usual, there's minimal editing...
> 
> Oh, and for those who've been asking I didn't really put much thought into Jeanne's condition. I wanted it to be terminal, but I didn't want to be too conclusive, so it's up to you guys.


	19. It's Gotta Break In Front of Me

Lovino tapped his fingers on his desk, staring at his phone. It had been anything but silent today; Antonio had called twice and texted him several times, trying to figure out what he'd done that had made Lovino leave so early the night before. He'd left a message saying he had something to tell Lovino, but that only scared the Italian more.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed the phone, nearly dropping it in his hurry, and searches almost frantically for his cousin's number.

It rang several times, each one rattling Lovino's nerves, and he was just about to give up when Francis finally answered. His voice sounded strangely dull, and as much as Lovino wanted to ask how he was doing, he knew he wouldn't be any help. At best, he could only get the blond's mind off the pit of depression he'd fallen into.

"I...I need your help," Lovino admitted, his voice barely more than a mumble. He was careful to keep his voice softer than usual. Whatever his reputation might suggest, he did care about the emotions of others-especially family.

"Oh? And you're coming to me?" Francis asked, and Lovino could almost hear a smile in his voice. The Italian cleared his throat awkwardly, but found himself relaxing. It was easier to deal with people when he wasn't afraid of them bursting into tears at the drop of a hat.

"It's about Antonio."

There was a moment of silence that Lovino hoped was just from surprise, and then a soft chuckle. Lovino bristled, but he'd kind of expected the reaction, which was a bit of a relief.

"He got to you, huh? Francis asked finally, sounding more like himself than he had in a while, "Ah, I thought he would...He's already falling for you, you know."

Lovino let out a snort at that, prompting the Frenchman to respond with a questioning hum.

"I doubt it..." Lovino grumbled softly, his cheeks reddening as he continued, "I-I...was trying to flirt with him yesterday. He didn't do anything about it..."

Francis laughed at that, making Lovino scowl and sink further into his seat with embarrassment.

"Lovino, mon cher," he continued just before Lovino's patience ran out and he snapped at Francis, "Antonio really isn't the type to pick up on something as subtle as your flirting-or anyone's, really. I don't think he's ever had a romantic interest in anyone other than you. It's as if you've opened his eyes..."

His voice trailed away dreamily for a moment, and Lovino was too busy trying to reign in his embarrassment to respond. If he tried to say anything, his voice might squeak, and that would be beyond mortifying.

"You have to be bold with him," Francis continued finally, "I know it's not your style, but if you make one big move to show Antonio how you feel, he'll be yours."

Lovino nodded slowly as if made sense, though he knew Francis couldn't see him. He cleared his throat again, just as awkwardly as before, and clutched the phone tightly to his ear. "Wh-what do you suggest?"

Francis chuckled again, but it wasn't as embarrassing this time. "Well, I would suggest just telling him, but you'd probably get too worked up and hit him instead," the blond teased, getting an indignant huff, "Lovino...just kiss him."

Lovino sputtered for a moment, trying to come up with a good response to such an outrageous suggestion. By the time he'd gotten himself under control again, he realized the line had gone dead.

* * *

 

For the second time in as many days, Antonio was surprised by Lovino's sudden appearance on his doorstep. The Spaniard was still in pajama pants, and his hair was tousled from a night of restless sleep. He'd thrown on a shirt at the sound of the doorbell, but as he looked down at himself, he realized it wasn't even his-Gilbert had left it the last time he'd spent the night.

He looked back up at the Italian and smiled, fighting back a yawn. Lovino looked nervous enough already-he didn't want to make it worse by letting him find out that he was responsible for hours of tossing and turning.

"I, ah...Sorry for running out on you like that yesterday," Lovino mumbled finally, "I, ah, remembered something I had to do."

Antonio knew that was a lie, but didn't want to call him out on it. Instead, he just smiled and stepped aside to let Lovino enter.

"No biggie," he told him cheerfully, telling himself to just be glad the Italian had returned, "Did you want to finish the movie or something?"

Lovino visibly relaxed, and something that might have been called a smile passed over his lips. "Yeah, sure," he agreed, already on his way to Antonio's room. The older boy trailed along after him, a bright smile already settling back into its usual spot on his face.

They settled onto his bed again, and Antonio restarted the movie. Lovino didn't mind much, seeing as he'd barely been paying attention the night before. He pressed against Antonio again, not bothering to be discreet this time, and pulled Antonio's arm around his waist when the other tried to wrap it around his shoulders again. Antonio looked down at him, surprised, but his smile grew as he pulled Lovino even closer. Lovino smiled as well, glad Antonio couldn't see it from the angle he was at, and settled in to actually watch the movie this time.

As the credits began to roll, Lovino realized he still hadn't done anything that could be considered a big move. Worse, Francis' suggestion was all he could think of. His hands shook slightly as he began to panic, but movement from Antonio snapped him out of it.

The Spaniard stretched and yawned, drawing Lovino's gaze up to his face just as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. The Italian stared, transfixed. If he hadn't already been thinking of kissing him, he would be now. Antonio blinked down at him, confused.

"Lovino?" he asked softly, his warm, soft voice sending shivers down the other's spine. Lovino stopped thinking, letting himself act on instinct instead. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, shifting to face Antonio before leaning in and hesitantly pressing his lips to the Spaniard's.

Antonio sat still for a moment, stunned. He shook it off quickly though, kissing Lovino back and using both hands to pull him closer. He'd imagined this many times, but nothing could compare to actually having the fiery little Italian pressing against him, his shaking hand resting on his shoulder as their lips met.

Finally, Lovino pulled back, panting and blushing. Antonio smiled warmly, thinking he'd never been more beautiful. He reached out, his fingertips lightly brushing the other boy's warm skin as he brushed the hair from his dark amber eyes. Lovino glanced away, but didn't try to stop him.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Antonio admitted, "but I wanted you to want it too."

Lovino's cheeks flushed, and he gave a tiny shrug. "Francis says I'm too subtle," he mumbled. Antonio blinked in confusion at the comment, but his expression lit with understanding as he realized it was Lovino's way of saying he'd wanted it for a while too.

Curious, Antonio leaned in and kissed him again. Lovino responded, hesitant but willing, and Antonio could have laughed with relief.

"Hey," Antonio began suddenly, prompting Lovino to look up at him curiously, "Does this mean you want to date me?"

Lovino sputtered for a moment, and Antonio sat back to watch the color of his cheeks deepen in fascination. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Lovino quite this shade. He bit back a chuckle, waiting patiently for an answer.

"I-I...guess we could," Lovino finally grumbled, tugging nervously at his hair. He glanced hesitantly up at Antonio, as if he suspected he might change his mind, but the older brunet was smiling so widely it looked as if his face might break.

He launched himself at Lovino, tackling the Italian into the sheets with a surprised yelp, and planted kisses on every inch of his face until his protests melted into giggles.

Finally, they simply lay there, Lovino panting and looking down at Antonio, whose head rested on his stomach. He ran his fingers lightly through the chocolate curls, blushing at the look of adoration in his emerald eyes.

"Can I call you 'Lovi' now?" Antonio asked suddenly, looking hopeful.

Lovino rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to tell him there was no way in hell he was letting that happen, but then he paused. It probably wouldn't matter much what he said, much it would be nice if there were some things he only allowed Antonio-my boyfirend, he thought, blushing-to do. "...Fine."

Antonio smiled and leaned up to kiss him again. Lovino hoped he would eventually stop blushing over every little sign of affection, but it wouldn't be so bad if the way his stomach flipped pleasantly would stick around for a while. He smiled and kissed Antonio back, shoving away all his usual negativity for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote pretty much all of this at work on Thursday, but I almost forgot to upload it because I'm still not really used to my writing schedule anymore...But! I'm at least on track now, I know what fic I'm doing next, and we've only got 9 more chapters to go here~
> 
> See you next Monday!


	20. Tick Tock, the Time

**Fools Like Us**

20- Tick, Tock, the Time

Francis' phone woke him early on Saturday morning, and he couldn't help but glare at it for a moment before picking up. It wasn't entirely unusual for Jeanne's parents, especially her mother, to call him, but he hadn't heard from them since the funeral. Part of him was almost scared to pick up, scared to hear what it was they wanted.

"Hello?" He answered warily, his voice still somewhat muffled by sleep. The woman on the line apologized for waking him, her French softly accented by the area she was from. More out of habit than anything, Francis assured her there was nothing to worry about.

"My daughter made a will," she told him softly, her voice wavering slightly, "She wanted to leave you some things."

Francis was stunned into silence for a moment. Jeanne had left him something. For a moment, the pain in his chest flared. In the last week or so, it had dulled to a near-constant ache, but in that moment it was as sharp and surreal as the moment he had understood that she was really gone.

"Would you like to come get them today, or should we bring them to you?" Jeanne's mother asked when the silence had lingered too long to be comfortable.

Francis blinked out of his dazed state, his face flushing lightly. It was rude to have left her hanging like that.

"Désolé," he apologized, embarrassed, "I'll come get them today, if it's not a problem for you."

He could imagine her small smile as clearly as if he could see it. It was the expression she normally wore when dealing with Francis, and he hoped she was still capable of it. A shadow crossed his face; he'd been so caught up in thinking about his own pain, he'd barely considered what Jeanne's parents must be going through.

"Of course it is fine," she assured him, her voice as sweet as ever despite the sadness he could hear there, "Why don't you come for lunch? It will be nice to see you again."

Francis smiled, holding the phone close as a sense of warmth and belonging swept through him for a moment. He hoped his presence wouldn't be too harsh a reminder for either of them. It would be nice to be able to hold on to a connection like that.

"Merci, I will," he assured her again, already combing his fingers through his long blond hair, "I'll see you in about two hours then?" She agreed, and they broke the connection.

* * *

Francis stood on the doorstep a couple hours later, as promised, but he was already questioning the decision. What if it was too hard to face them? He hadn't let himself think about it too much on the way over, but now that he was here, separated from them by a single slab of wood, he couldn't seem to help himself. His hands shook, but he didn't want to get caught standing out here like this. Valiantly, he managed to raise his hand and knock.

It didn't take long for Jeanne's mother to answer. She was as beautiful as he remembered, and he mentally chided himself for the thought-it had only been a few weeks; how much did he really expect her to change?

"Francis," she murmured, smiling at him, "I'm glad you could come."

He smiled back at her, trying not to think too much about the lump in his throat. It wasn't as big as he thought it might be, but it was painful, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. He tucked them into his pockets, hoping it didn't look too suspicious.

"Of course," he told her softly, thanking God his voice didn't crack, "I'm sorry, I didn't think to bring anything with me..."

She waved his concerns away, a small smile on her face as she stood back to let him enter. "I think we'll have more than enough, cher. Would you mind much if I asked you to set the table?"

He assured her he wouldn't, and they made their way to the kitchen, exchanging a few pleasantries in muted voices. The younger man had thought the atmosphere between them would be more awkward than this, but he was glad it wasn't. Still, he couldn't shake the sadness than hung in the air between them, nearly tangible.

They lapsed into silence as Francis set three places at the table, his expression tightening slightly as he thought this must have been what it looked like on the days he hadn't been there. Did they still set a place for her sometimes, either because they would forget she wouldn't be coming to the table, or because they wanted to remember her? It wasn't unheard of, after all.

He shook off the thought before it could dampen his mood any further, and he smiled at the woman as she brought several dishes over to the table. They smelled wonderful, and Francis' stomach rumbled. He blushed, but Jeanne's mother let out a soft, pleasant laugh that soothed his aching heart more than he ever would have guessed. He smiled back at her, one of the first genuine smiles he'd managed to crack this month, and a soft chuckle escaped him as well.

The exchange seemed to open things up between them, as if dark clouds had been dispelled from the air. Francis relaxed, and when Jeanne's father appeared, a kind smile adorning his face that managed to brush his tired eyes; he seemed relaxed by the atmosphere as well.

"I think it would be appropriate for you to call us Isabelle and Jacques now, don't you?" Jeanne's father suggested after a few minutes, looking up at Francis over their meal. The blond looked up in surprise, his blue eyes wide. He hadn't even thought of such things yet, and the offer caught him off guard.

"If...if you'd like me to..." he murmured, his usual air of self-assurance slipping away for a moment.

Isabelle smiled at him, reaching over and placing a hand gently over his own. "We'd love it," she assured him. He stared at her for a moment, then his expression relaxed into a smile, and he gave a slight nod.

"Oui, in that case, I will," he told them softly.

The offer of friendship was more than he had ever expected, and he was dangerously close to bursting into tears because of it. Luckily, Isabelle seemed to realize what was happening, and she called Jacques' attention back to herself to give the younger man a bit of a reprieve.

By the time they finished lunch, Francis had calmed down enough to go to Jeanne's room and gather the things she'd left to him. Still, the actual act if walking through the doorway was like a punch to the gut, and no matter how many times he'd told himself he was prepared to face it, he knew he really wasn't. His fingers gripped the door frame hard, and he was glad her parents had let him do this on his own. He wasn't afraid of or in denial of his weaknesses, but that didn't mean he wanted anyone else to see them.

A small pile had been gathered on the bed, which had been made up despite the fact that no one would be coming back to sleep in it. He suspected Isabelle had done it as an excuse to be surrounded by her daughter's things, but who was he to speak for anyone else's motives?

He took a few slow, almost cautious steps into the room, letting the silence weigh on him. He had expected it to be uncomfortable, maybe even stifling, but it was surprisingly soothing.

He didn't want to leave an imprint of himself on the bed, so he sank to the floor instead, sitting cross-legged. The atmosphere seemed heavy, but not uncomfortably so. Francis looked around slowly, as if trying to memorize every detail of the room. Slowly, a smile crept over his lips as he remembered everything that had happened in this room

Finally, he stood and gathered the items that had been left for him. With one last glance at the empty room, he made his way back to the kitchen to say his goodbyes. He knew he would be seeing them again, and now he was even looking forward to it.

Stepping out the door with his arms full of things that had been Jeanne's and were now his, he paused to take a deep breath. The air smelled fresh, something he hadn't noticed in a while. He realized he was grinning, though he couldn't imagine why for a moment. Then it hit him.

He was going to be okay. Really, truly okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long! My brother got me sick, so working on this hasn't exactly been the first thing on my mind. I'm thinking about starting another fic that doesn't stick to a schedule, if anyone's interested in some human!Prumano.


	21. Distant Look Grows in Your Eyes

 

It took Lovino several minutes to figure out why he was in such a good mood when he woke up. He lay in bed longer than was really necessary, his limbs spread haphazardly over the blankets, but there was nothing new about that. It was late in the morning on a Saturday, but that wasn't it either. His cell phone buzzed on the bed near his pillow, alerting him to a message, and he suddenly remembered.

He was dating someone. Antonio, of all people. It had been almost a month, and he'd fallen asleep texting the Spaniard the night before. He dug the phone from the sheets, which tried desperately to hold his limbs in place. Unlocking it, he found three messages from Antonio.

[TEXT] Maybe we should go to the movie this weekend. Like a real date!

[TEXT] Lovi? Did you fall asleep on me?

[TEXT] ¡Buenos noches mi amor!

Lovino wondered how he could use such affectionate terms so easily, but he found himself smiling. Warm smells were already suffusing the air of the house, making Lovino wonder if his grandfather was already up. He and his brother never got up before noon if they could help it, so he had to be the one cooking, right?

Lovino struggled from the warm cocoon of blankets, shivering as his feet hit the cool hardwood floors, and stumbling sleepily toward the kitchen. Before he reached it, however, the sound of voices stopped him in his tracks.

"Wah, don't do that! You'll crush all the flavor out of it!"

"Isn't that the point?"

"No! If you squeeze it all out now, there won't be anything left when you bite into it!"

Lovino could already feel the scowl spreading over his lips. What was that bastard doing in his house before he was even awake? At least they weren't doing anything weird; if Feliciano was cooking, he wouldn't let anything distract him. When it came to things like that, they were the same.

Lovino withdrew to the living room, deciding he didn't want to face the two lovebirds. Despite the fact that his good mood had persisted throughout the night and into his lazy morning, he could feel it steadily slipping away as he grabbed the green throw blanket off the back of the couch. He wrapped it around himself, turning on the TV and turning up the volume to drown out the sounds of Feliciano and his idiot boyfriend being cute with each other. After a minute or two, his little brother peeked his head into the room to call out a good morning, and Lovino waved dismissively, but it was enough for the younger. Whatever people might have thought of their relationship, the arrangement worked for them.

"How's Toni?" asked a new voice, and Lovino looked up to see Ludwig's older brother enter the room. Lovino's scowl deepened at the sight of him.

"You're here too?" he asked bluntly, a scowl on his lips.

Gilbert let out his characteristic laugh, flopping onto the couch next to the older Italian.

"'Course I am," he chirped cheerfully, ruffling Lovino's hair, "Anyway, you didn't answer my question. He talks about you all the time, so you've gotta know, right?"

Lovino's cheeks went pink as he batted the German's hand away, but some of the fight went out of him.

"He's...fine, I guess," Lovino mumbled, glancing at his phone. He remembered he hadn't replied to the texts he had woken up to, so he decided to do that now. Stubbornly ignoring Gilbert, he hunched over his phone.

[TEXT] What do you want to see?

When he looked up again, Gilbert was leaning right over him. His head knocked into the albino's nose, making him yelp and hold his face.

"What the hell, asshole!?" Lovino snapped, whacking him in the stomach for good measure, "What the hell makes you think you can just hover over me, huh?"

"I just want to know if my friend's making choices as good as mine! Are you guys going on a date or something?" Gilbert asked, his voice muffled by the hand over his face. Lovino's cheeks flushed again and he didn't answer, slumping back into the seat. Gilbert waited a moment, then scoffed and stood up.

"Whatever. I'm going to see  _my_  boyfriend," he chirped, jumping to his feet. He waited a moment, then flopped back down.

"On second thought, I'm gonna wait for breakfast. With those two cooking, it's gotta be good, right?"

Lovino didn't answer, playing with one of the loose threads on his blanket. He couldn't help but wonder at the relationships around him and wondered if his and Antonio's measured up to theirs. Everyone else seemed so much more open with their emotions-what if Antonio decided he wanted someone who was more willing to show him how much he cared?

"Hey, what's with that face?" Gilbert asked suddenly, nudging Lovino's shoulder. The Italian jumped and frowned, turning to him.

"The hell are you talking about?" he asked, his voice low and sulky. He knew what the other was talking about, of course; but that didn't mean he wanted to talk about it. Gilbert snorted and rolled his eyes, but didn't push the matter-Lovino wasn't his problem, anyway.

Lovino turned up the volume again, not wanting to deal with the boy next to him any longer than he had to. They hadn't gotten along at the best of times, so with him worrying about his relationship with Antonio, either of them could have said something that would only make things worse. He sighed, leaning back against the couch and pulling the blanket up to his chin.

A few minutes later, Lovino's grandfather poked his head into the room to call them to breakfast. Gilbert jumped up immediately, cheering and clapping his brother on the back in congratulations-something about getting to cook with his cute boyfriend and how he'd love to do the same with Roderich sometime. Lovino trailed after him, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He wondered what it would be like to cook breakfast with Antonio someday, and the thought sent a pleasant thrill through him. He'd known he was a hopeless romantic, but to think that way...it was almost embarrassing. Still, the thought soothed his earlier fears, and he joined the large group at the table.

The group was talkative, or at least, Feliciano, Gilbert, and the oldest of the Italians were. Ludwig contributed every once in a while, whereas Lovino kept to himself most of the morning. Though his fears had been assuaged, they hadn't been completely eliminated. His phone buzzed suddenly, telling him there was a reply. He grabbed at it immediately, earning him a knowing smirk from his grandfather. Lovino tried not to huff at that, his cheeks coloring as he read the message.

[TEXT] What about that new that new troll movie? That looks good

Lovino rolled his eyes, but he knew he would go along with it. He didn't have that heart to tell Antonio that there might be anything he didn't want to do with him, even if it was a movie he thought looked silly. Before he could type out a reply, he glanced up to see what the rest of his companions were up to.

Feliciano was looking at Ludwig, leaning so close that their lips nearly brushed as they spoke. Ludwig's cheeks ere pink, but he didn't look any more uncomfortable than usual-if anything, he actually looked more relaxed. Gilbert was mocking them from across the table, and his grandfather's shoulders shook with laughter. For once, Lovino found his gaze drawn to the happy couple.

He couldn't do that. He could never make Antonio look so happy. He knew his brother had been in this relationship longer than he'd even known Antonio, but he also knew that no matter how long the two of them were together, he would never be able to be so openly affectionate with his Spanish boyfriend.

"I'm gonna go back upstairs..." he murmured after a moment, pushing his plate away. His grandfather's gaze flickered over the plate, then up to Lovino's face, his brow furrowing with worry. It wasn't like Lovino to leave so much food behind, and he hadn't even complained that Ludwig had helped with the cooking. Lovino ignored his concern, his feet pounding loudly on the steps as he raced up them and threw himself back into the nest that of blankets on his bed. Several minutes later, his phone buzzed with a reminder that Antonio had texted him. Right, he had to tell him...

That he wasn't going. His mind was made up now.

[TEXT] I don't think I can make it after all. See you at school

He held himself together for a few minutes after that. His breathing was labored, and he clenched the pillow so tightly that the fabric left red marks in the skin on his fingers.

Finally, a sob broke free, closely followed by another. He knew he was sabotaging himself, signing himself up for months-if not years-of misery, but he couldn't stop himself. He just wanted Antonio to be happy, and he knew he couldn't do it the way someone like Feliciano could. He couldn't tell him how wonderful he really was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually managed to get two chapters out today-how about that? Most of this was written today and edited quickly, so there could definitely be mistakes.
> 
> Also, I keep forgetting to mention that I write a lot more than I post here. If you want to see some of those, they're all posted on my tumblr (felovabriel) under the drabble section.


	22. But Fools Never Ask

Antonio frowned down at his phone, wishing it would go off. Lovino hadn't texted him since he told him he couldn't make it to the movie that weekend. He'd hoped for more of an explanation, but it didn't look like he'd be getting any. He wanted to see Lovino, but all texts to that effect had been ignored.

Sunday afternoon found Antonio still in pajama pants and without a shirt, scratching his tangled curls as he stared at the home screen of his phone in hopes of a response. As usual, nothing was coming, and he finally dropped the device on the counter when his stomach rumbled to remind him he hadn't eaten that day. He sighed and pulled out a box of pasta; maybe if he made Lovino's favorite food, he could entice the younger boy to come over when it was ready.

With that thought in mind, he quickly gathered the rest of the ingredients he needed. Lovino had cooked for him a couple times already, and he had a general idea of what the Italian liked. Luckily, that meant he also had learned by now that Lovino wasn't allergic to anything.

He quickly sautéed the onions and garlic before adding the tomatoes, humming happily to himself. Popular Spanish love songs drifted through his mind, and he sang bits and pieces to himself as he worked. Once he'd put the pasta on, he grabbed his phone again and texted his grumpy younger boyfriend.

 **[TEXT]**  I'm making pasta for lunch. Want to join me?

He'd chosen a relatively simple dish, so while the pasta cooked, he hurried upstairs to change into clothing that Lovino would deem acceptable. He'd been surprisingly accepting of Antonio's fashion choices, given his reputation, but he wanted to impress Lovino today. Now wearing black jeans and a white button-down, he practically bounced back to the kitchen and snatched his phone up. Good, Lovino had already replied.

 **[TEXT]**  I can't. Sorry.

Antonio stared at the words, his heart sinking. The words were so short and simple, like there wasn't any life in then. The last word especially bothered him; from what he'd seen, Lovino only apologized so easily when he didn't really mean it.

It hurt-he couldn't deny that. He'd fallen for Lovino since he was so fiery and full of life, but this...He didn't know how to deal with it. He sighed softly, sinking into a seat at the table and resting his head on his arms. At least his parents weren't there to see him in such a low place. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark strands in frustration.

He sighed and stood again, finishing the pasta and setting it aside to cool. He didn't have much of an appetite at the moment. He wondered if he'd done something wrong, but even after spending a couple hours thinking about it, he couldn't figure out what it could possibly have been. Perhaps Lovino was just in a bad mood? Or maybe something had happened at home...He'd have to ask him at school the next day.

* * *

Antonio couldn't describe the feeling that rushed through him at the sight of Lovino the next morning. This Italian looked exhausted and for a moment, Antonio was sure it had just been home problems that had kept them apart all weekend. There were dark circles under Lovino's eyes, and his hair looked as if he had merely dragged a comb through it rather than taking the care he usually did.

"Hey, I missed you this weekend," greeted the Spaniard as he approached, a familiar bright smile on his lips as he stepped up to lean against the lockers next to Lovino.

The Italian jumped and looked guilty at the sound of his words, and suddenly, all of Antonio's doubts came rushing back. He wasn't usually so insecure, but with the way Lovino made him feel, it almost wasn't surprising. He'd never felt so strongly for anyone, not even Gilbert and Francis, and he was terrified of the thought of losing the little Italian. He felt as if the other was so distant, as if his fingertips would just brush over his skin if he reached out. It was terrifying, like he was floating with nothing to hold onto. He wasn't used to feeling so lost, but that almost frightened look Lovino gave him sent his heart plummeting. The person he loved wasn't supposed to look like that.

"Yeah, sorry. I was busy..." Lovino grumbled, stubbornly looking away as he grabbed his books. He was moving too quickly, and three of them tumbled from his arms before he could stop them. Antonio quickly bent down to retrieve them for him, holding on when Lovino tried to take them back. Reluctantly, the Italian's hazel eyes traveled up to meet his own bright green ones.

Are you sure you're okay?" Antonio asked softly. The last thing he wanted to do was drive him further away by pushing the matter, but he was scared he was already losing Lovino. Was he not good boyfriend material? He'd tried to be everything he could that would make Lovino happy, and he'd thought it was working.

"I'm fine," Lovino grumbled, still not meeting his eyes as he yanked his books back. Antonio watched him move through the crowd, his brunette head bobbing just below the average height of the crowd. He really didn't want to go to class after that, but he knew he'd have to face the rest of the world eventually. Whatever people thought of him, he wasn't out of touch with reality-he just preferred to focus on the more cheerful side of things.

Francis was in his next class. Antonio should have known he'd never get his disappointment past the Frenchman; sometimes, it seemed as if Francis was some kind of emotional bloodhound. The moment Antonio entered the classroom, the other man's blue eyes were on him, tracking his every movement as he forced a bright smile and dropped into his usual seat at the blond's side.

"Morning!" he greeted as cheerfully as he could manage, but the strain was obvious even to his own ears. He wondered if this was how Lovino often felt, since his emotions were always so obvious no matter how hard he tried to hide them. As much as Antonio loved that about him, he could see how it would be a problem.

"Mon ami," Francis began, his gaze steady and piercing, "I can see right through you. Tell the très bien moi what's wrong. Is it Lovino?"

Antonio's lips pursed at the sound of his boyfriend's name, giving him away. One slim blond brow rose at the reaction, and Antonio knew how obvious he must be right now. He glanced away, his normally bright green eyes darkening slightly as he did. Letting out a small noise of sympathy, Francis reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"What has my big bad cousin done now?" he asked, trying to lighten the mood with his teasing tone.

God, Antonio didn't want to talk about this in class. Normally, nothing seemed to get to him, but he could almost feel the tears creeping up on him as he smiled back at Francis.

"I think he's getting tired of me," he replied as lightly as he could manage, "He didn't want to see me at all this weekend."

Francis looked like he was about to scoff at that, but then he realized Antonio was being serious. He stared at the Spaniard for a moment, his normally clever expression absent from his face. Instead, the look that replaced it was shocked and almost dumb.

"Really?" he asked curiously, leaning across the aisle that separated them, "That's strange...I've never seen Lovino as happy as he is with you. He even kissed you in front of me!"

Antonio remembered the exact incident Francis was referring to, and the memory sent a pleasant little thrill through him. A small smile even crossed his lips, lightening his expression for a moment. Lovino had scoffed and scowled at Antonio for nearly an hour after that, complaining about showing affection in front of his "dumb sissy cousin," but that didn't change the fact that he had kissed Antonio back without even the slightest hesitation.

Antonio rested his head on the desk again, the smile on his face not quite reaching his eyes. He didn't know what to say now. Part of him just wanted to wallow in the hurt and sadness until Lovino noticed or he got over it. Francis, of course, wasn't going to have any of that. He'd done his fair share of exhibiting such behavior in the recent weeks, and the last thing he wanted to do was see his best friend go through it now.

"I have an idea," he said instead, recapturing Antonio's attention. , "He's my cousin, as you know, so I'll just invite myself over for a family dinner! Nonno Vargas can never say no to me, and I'll be able to get Lovino alone to scold him for treating you so harshly!"

Antonio frowned at that, not sure how well it would go over. Lovino might not be any good at history, but that didn't mean he was stupid. "Won't he suspect something?"

"Probably," Francis admitted with a shrug, "But it's not really up to him, is it? I won't be asking  _him_  if I can come for dinner, and he really won't have anywhere to go. You see, he doesn't really have many friends besides you and Heracles. Unless he wants to go and get all his nice clothes covered in cat fur, he'll have to stick around. All I have to do is pull him aside before he can think of an excuse."

Antonio was torn between relief that his problems might be worked out soon and guilt that he was agreeing to his boyfriend being set up like this. Knowing how delicate Lovino's emotions could be, he thought maybe he should step in and try to discourage Francis from pulling a move that was guaranteed to make the Italian more embarrassed and upset. Then again, couldn't he think of himself just this once?

Forcing a smile, he nodded, and Francis slipped out of the classroom to call his great-uncle before their class started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's late again, but this time it wasn't my fault! I was almost done editing when Word shut down on me and wouldn't open again until I restarted. Anyway, hopefully I'll have the next one up on Monday. I'm kind of looking forward to working on other pairings...
> 
> ~Saya


	23. Afraid of What Lurks in Your Mind

Roderich lay awake as sunlight crept over the sheets of his bed, which were pulled up to his own chin. Gilbert lay next to him, still snoring softly. The blanket only came up to his hips, and when he wasn't feeling his self-loathing too deeply, Roderich allowed his gaze to creep over the scars and planes of muscle of his boyfriend's back. He wondered what kind of things Gilbert could possibly have gotten into to scar him up that badly.

Letting out a soft sigh, he rolled onto his side and pillowed his head on his arm. Gilbert had stolen the pillows sometimes during the night, and Roderich had let him. Besides, there was no way he was taking them back now-even from here, he could see the puddle of drool soaking the sheets under Gil's cheek. Even if he didn't have to wash the sheets after the night before, he would definitely be doing it now.

He sighed again, reaching out and brushing his fingertips lightly through the albino's hair. Gilbert let out a soft groan, tilting his head slightly into the touch. It was endearing, and despite the doubts that had been plaguing him, Roderich found himself melting a bit at the sweet actions. Even if everything went to hell eventually, he could at least admit to himself that he really, truly did love Gilbert Beilschmidt. The man was an idiot, but he was honest and confident and when he smiled at Roderich, the Austrian felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. Gilbert made him feel like he could do anything.

It was barely six, but Roderich decided he couldn't lay there doubting his boyfriend's intentions any longer. He slipped from the sheets, grabbing his robe and pulling it on as he slipped into the bathroom that connected to his bedroom. He stared the shower and closed the door before studying his reflection in the mirror, grimacing at what he saw.

His skin was pale to begin with, but now, it was perfectly sallow. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was already beginning to regret the sleepless night. Maybe he should have just turned Gilbert away when he showed interest in heading up to the bedroom last night. Then again, the way the German had gone to town on his sensitive neck...Roderich shivered at the memory and quickly thrust it from his mind, stepping into the shower and willing his mind to clear.

He didn't know how long he'd been standing under the warm deluge when familiar arms slipped around his waist and lips brushed over the nape of his neck.

"Morning, babe," Gil murmured in his ear, his voice still rough with sleep, "You seemed pretty quiet last night. Something on your mind?"

Roderich's heart sank at the words, but he instinctively leaned back into the other boy's chest. So, he'd noticed. It should make him happy to know that his boyfriend was already so in tune with all the little things about him, but right now, he didn't want to think about it.

"It's nothing," he replied simply, and he could feel Gil's lips turn down in a frown where they were still pressed against his skin. He didn't push the issue though, and for that, Roderich was grateful. He closed his eyes, focusing on the water running in rivulets over his skin wand the way his lover's warm chest molded perfectly to his back. If he wasn't so unsure of everything right now, he would think this was heaven. It was exactly the kind of thing he's always hoped for his future when it came to romance.

Gilbert's hands began to move slowly through his hair and over his body, washing him gently and thoroughly. Roderich let himself relax, suddenly grateful he'd fallen for a man who was surprisingly conscious of this kind of thing. Elizaveta had always told him that was the case, but after meeting him, Roderich hadn't been able to believe it until he'd seen it for himself.

"I could get used to this," Gil breathed softly in his ear as his hands ran lightly over Roderich's arms, and the Austrian hummed in agreement.

When he'd been thoroughly washed, the brunet turned and kissed the other softly, resting his hands on his chest for a moment. The feeling of Gilbert's heart pounding under his palm was soothing, but somehow reminded him of all his worries.

"I'll go start breakfast, okay?" he asked, offering the best smile he could manage before he slipped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself.

"Hey, make extra bacon for me!" Gilbert requested excitedly, poking his head out of the shower. Roderich scoffed at him to stop dripping everywhere, but made a mental note of the request. Besides, having more to cook could keep his hands and, hopefully, his mind busy for a while longer.

He dressed quickly, sticking to something so casual that it was almost out of character for him. Elizaveta raised a brow when she caught sight of him; he'd never worn the gray sweatpants she'd bought him for Christmas one year, not once. Roderich knew they looked horribly out of place with the button-down shirt he wore, but as far as he was concerned, this counted as a lazy morning.

"Father and your mother will be back around noon," the girl commented as she returned to browsing...something. Roderich suspected it was one of those strange comics she'd gotten from the Japanese boy she had some sort of loose friendship with. He simply hummed in acknowledgement and turned his attention to the stove, glad she hadn't commented on his and Gilbert's...activities of the night before.

It wasn't as if it was the first time they'd slept together. The first time was the night of the school dance, and Roderich remembered every detail vividly. He still shivered when he remembered finally feeling that pale skin press against his own, pushing him into the mattress as gilbert's lips locked with his own. It had been exciting, and neither of them had fumbled too badly-Gilbert's knowledge seemed more theoretical, but Roderich had found his occasional panic endearing. He found himself smiling as he cooked, but the expression fell from his lips when the albino stumbled down the steps, sounding more elephant than human.

It really was unfair how good the Prussian looked, even now. Roderich felt as if he should at least look unattractive when the other was having such doubts about him; it would be make it easier to get out of this situation before he realized he was in over his head and there was no way to get out of the mess by himself.

But then, maybe he was already at that point?

Droplets of water still clung to his pale messy hair, the light catching them as he move through the occasional beam of sunlight that lanced through the house. He wore faded jeans and a black V-neck that Roderich suspected had been dug out of his own closet. He grinned roguishly as he entered the kitchen, making a beeline for Roderich and slipping his arms around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder.

"Smells awesome," he commented, kissing his boyfriend's clothed shoulder. A small smile flickered across Roderich's face, despite his worry.

They fell silent again as Roderich cooked, and the comfortably atmosphere between them helped them relax. Roderich was acutely aware of Gilbert's presence and the hands that slid lightly over his sides. The Austrian couldn't help but be surprised that his touches were gentle rather than groping. Lately, they'd been going at it like rabbits, and the change was nice.

It wasn't until he was serving up their breakfast that he realized Elizaveta wasn't around. He hadn't noticed her leave, and while it should have relaxed him and let him be more affectionate with his boyfriend, he only found himself more nervous. Gilbert seemed to pick up on that, but to Roderich's relief, he didn't question it.

While they ate, they talked about mundane things—at least, Gilbert talked while Roderich offered small, noncommittal sounds to keep him going. When both plates were clean, they moved to the couch and Roderich curled up in the circle of Gilbert's arms.

That's when everything went to hell.

"So, you wanna tell me what's been bugging you?" Gilbert asked after a moment. His voice suggested it was more of a gentle nudge than a demand for information, but it still turned Roderich's stomach unpleasantly and sent a chill down to the tips of his fingers. He hesitated, but he felt he owed his lover some sort of explanation. If he didn't, things would only get worse.

"What do you think of…of me?" he asked finally, his voice smaller than usual. His heartbeat thrummed like a hummingbird's wings, and his hands were already clammy. He sounded so insecure…but he was, wasn't he?

Gilbert looked surprised by the question, but then snorted with amusement. Roderich's heart plummeted.

"What, is that what this is all about?" he asked with a laugh, as though he hadn't yet noticed how deep Roderich's discomfort ran, "I thought you knew. I think you're the best damn thing to happen to me."

"But…is that me, or just…what we do?" he pushed, the distress in his tone becoming more obvious. He pulled out of Gilbert's hold a bit, shifting around to look at him.

Gilbert's grin faded a little, but it didn't fall. He ran a hand through Roderich's hair, and the Austrian instinctively leaned into his touch.

"Of course it's you," he replied, "What, did you think I was only in love with you for your body?" He grinned, but when his boyfriend looked away and didn't answer, it fell quickly.

"Roddy," he murmured softly, gently turning the other's face towards him, "Roderich, I love you.  _All_  of you. Your body is great and all, but it's just a bonus."

Roderich lifted his gaze slowly to Gilbert's face, taking a moment to just study it. He saw the earnestness and worry there, and it was enough to finally soothe his nerves.

He lunged forward and threw his arms around Gilbert's neck, apologizing for ever having doubted him. He slipped into German sometime during the rush of words, and he could feel Gilbert smiling against his shoulder. The albino's arms were wrapped firmly around his waist, never straying or teasing.

Later, it was Roderich who dragged his lover up to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh...so I'm aware that I'm late on this again. And this time, I don't have any excuse other than "I didn't want to do anything."
> 
> Buuut anyway, here's the new chapter! I feel like I've been neglecting these two, so here we go. More insecure Roddy. I don't know if I've mentioned before, but I also take requests for drabbles and things on tumblr? It's felovabrighoul for Halloween, if anyone wants to get in on that.


	24. I Always Knew, Somehow

Lovino nearly slammed the door in his face when he arrived, but Francis managed to catch it just in time.

Smiling, the Frenchman managed to push his way into the house past his scowling cousin. Feliciano came running from the kitchen, throwing his arms around Francis and already babbling about what they were going to eat that night. The blond just smiled and nodded, listening to him politely even though he wanted to focus on the older Italian. He liked to think he was very good at reading body language, and he wanted to observe Lovino before confronting him.

Lovino huffed and stormed back to the kitchen, and Feliciano dragged Francis along after him. The Vargas kitchen was more than big enough for the four of them, and the oldest in the family greeted Francis just as enthusiastically as the youngest when he entered. Lovino scoffed at the friendliness, but Francis could see his shoulders already relaxing.

None of the Italians would let him help with the cooking, and Francis soon found himself banished to the dining room. Lovino had insisted he would screw everything up, but the other two assured him it was just because he was a guest. Francis found himself wondering if Antonio could ever soften Lovino enough to be civil to him.

When dinner was finally served, the four of them situated themselves around the long table. Not for the first time, Francis was surprised by how much food his great-uncle and cousins could—and would—provide for a small group.

"It's been a while since we've seen you," Romulus began, grinning at Francis, "You seem to be in good health. How is my niece?"

Francis smiled, though the small talk surprised him a bit. Small talk had never really been the older man's style. "She's doing well," he replied, brushing blond curls out of his face, "She told me to tell you to 'keep you old hands to yourself and stop flirting with everyone on the street."

Romulus laughed loudly, and Feliciano giggled as well. Francis found himself grinning too within moments, and even Lovino cracked a smile, though Francis could see he agreed. The mood had already been light, but after that, everyone seemed more relaxed and carefree.

Conversation and food flowed easily, and before he knew it, Francis was full and drowsy. He watched his cousin through half-lidded eyes, taking note of how distracted and upset Lovino seemed when he thought no one was looking.

To his surprise, it was Lovino who confronted him when the meal was over. The Italian caught him in the hallway, standing in front of him with his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest. He was scowling again, but the look in his eyes was insecure and almost shy, and his hands shook slightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked bluntly, "You never come over anymore, so you're not doing it for yourself, are you?"

Francis' answering smile was softer, and he gave a little shrug. "No, I'm here for Antonio," he admitted easily, a little surprised by the way Lovino flinched at the other boy's name, "But of course, that means I'm here for you as well."

Lovino hesitated, and for a moment, Francis was sure he would be pushed away. Then, suddenly, the Italian grabbed his hand and dragged him up the stairs to his bedroom, throwing the door shut behind them. Francis couldn't help but wince at the loud bang, but he was sure it wasn't an uncommon sound in the Vargas household.

"So, talk," Lovino huffed, dropping onto the bed, "Are you going to scold me or something?"

Francis raised a delicate brow, perching on the edge of the bed next to Lovino. As expected, the Italian looked away stubbornly.

"Non, that was never my intention," Francis assured him gently. He knew he couldn't deal with Lovino by criticizing him; it would only make him shut down. Lovino looked up at him again after a moment, once Francis had let the silence linger and settle. His long fingers toyed with the hem on his sleeve, and he swallowed hard. Finally, the blond spoke, his voice still gentle but encouraging.

"Are you going to tell me why you're pulling away from the person you love...?" he asked softly.

Lovino's reaction was...very like him. His cheeks flamed, and he sputtered and looked helpless and angry for a moment. Finally his hands dropped to his lap, his entire body going limp with defeat.

"I..." he began softly, his voice softer than Francis had ever heard it, "I'm not...good enough for him. Antonio is so good...He deserves someone who will take care of him and show that they love him. I'm..." He trailed off with a vague gesture, but the blond got the idea.

"Lovino," he began, his voice a little sharper than usual and making the Italian flinch, "I don't think that's something you should decide for yourself. Antonio is stronger than you seem to think, and I know he wouldn't love you so much if he thought you were trouble. You're scared, that's all. I know it can be intimidating to see Feliciano the way he is with Ludwig, but you don't have to be like them. Antonio loves you as you are."

Lovino hesitated for a moment, as if mulling the words over. He knew Francis was right, but everything in him screamed that he shouldn't accept that explanation so easily, that he knew better than anyone how awful he really was. Before he could speak again, Francis took his face gently in his hands and turned him so they were face to face. They younger's hazel eyes widened slightly, not used to having to face people like this when he was in one of his moods.

"I know," Lovino finally breathed softly, dropping his gaze again. Francis continued to stare at him for a moment, but then he nodded and released him. "Alright," he told him finally, letting out a sigh, "I know you're scared, Lovino. Just...remember than Antonio's never had a serious relationship either. You're the first person who's ever caught his eye, but he...he's passionate and he will give anything for you. Remember that, Lovino, and please don't make this harder on him."

He ran a hand gently through his younger cousin's hair, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead. For once, Lovino let him. He leaned closer, instinctively seeking comfort, but Francis pulled back with a small smile of his own.

"Ah-ah, that's Antonio's job," he murmured, half-teasing, "Why don't you give him a call? You'll make his week."

Without waiting for a response, Francis slipped away from the moodier of his two cousins, flashing him one more small smile before he left the room to rejoin his family downstairs.

Lovino grabbed one of his blankets and wrapped it around himself, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head on them. The warmth of the blanket was nice, but it couldn't compare to having Antonio's arms around him. This had been harder on him than he'd thought it would be, but he knew it was his fault. Finally, after nearly a week, he reached out and grabbed for his phone, deciding to call Antonio rather than texting him.

Antonio answered after the first ring. "¿Hola?" he asked, "Lovi? It is you, right, amor?"

A smile spread over Lovino's face at the sound of his voice, and nothing he could do would make it go away. "Si, it's me," he replied, his voice breaking slightly with emotion, "I...Toni? Can you...can you come over?"

The Spanish boy agreed instantly, making Lovino's stomach do flips with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Within twenty minutes, he heard his grandfather open the door to the older boy, his booming greeting echoing through the house. He heard Francis and Feliciano's voices as well, though both were quieter than the older man's. Still, Lovino didn't move, his nerves keeping him rooted to the spot.

Soon his door opened again, revealing the familiar tousled chocolate curls and bright green eyes of his boyfriend. Antonio looked concerned, but relief and joy took over his expression when Lovino reached out for him hesitantly.

He hit the Italian and bowled him over onto the bed before Lovino could even open his mouth. A surprised, happy laugh was forced out of Lovino, hand his arms came up quickly to hold Antonio as well. Antonio was murmuring in Spanish in his ear, and Lovino was too emotional to figure out the words that were sometimes so similar to his own language.

"A-Antonio, I-" he began, but was cut off by warm lips finally finding his own. He kissed back eagerly, suddenly feeling that it was all he wanted to do. They kissed for several minutes, the atmosphere between them becoming more passionate.

Finally, Antonio pulled back, his eyes darkened and his cheeks red as he panted. He didn't want to push Lovino into anything, but for a moment, he'd gotten carried away. Besides, if they did something like that so soon after coming together again, he was afraid Lovino would think it was all he wanted. That might push the Italian away again, and Antonio wasn't sure he could handle that.

"Antonio," Lovino panted, his own cheeks flushed as he looked up at his boyfriend, "I...I love you. I'm sorry I was so selfish..."

Antonio shushed him gently, pressing his fingertips lightly to the younger boy's lips.

"Hey, I understand, okay?" he assured him, smiling gently, "Everyone warned me that this wouldn't be easy, but I can be patient with you. I promise."

Lovino's eyes filled with tears at those words, wondering how he could possibly have gotten so lucky. Antonio was everything he'd ever wanted, even when he was afraid to admit it to himself.

"Grazie..." he murmured, shifting to press against Antonio amongst the tousled blankets on his bed. The Spaniard's fingertips trailed gently over' Lovino's side, his free hand twirling the slightly curled strands of Lovino's hair around his forefinger.

"I love you too," Antonio added after a moment, his breath lightly caressing his little Italian's ear. Lovino blushed and smiled, settling down. He didn't care if he and Antonio didn't do anything but lay here, talking about anything that crossed their minds. As far as he was concerned, nearly a week with little to no contact was the worst thing that had happened to him in years. He had no intention of letting it happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late again, huh? Someday I'll figure out how to make myself stick to a schedule...
> 
> Anyway, somehow we're down to only four chapters left! I created a new tumblr sideblog for all my stories and art, so it should be easier to browse if you guys want to check that out. The URL is the same as my name here, sayaleigh.


	25. I Always Knew the Truth

The day started peacefully enough. Elizaveta was glad to be home from school and had plans to join Kiku on some game from his homeland. He'd promised to translate for her, and she couldn't wait. She'd been looking forward to this game since the first reviews reached her. As a bonus, maybe it could give her a few ideas for situations to "accidentally" get Roderich and Gilbert involved in.

Kiku was just reviewing the cast for her when the first rumble of raised voices reached the Hungarian girl. She tried to ignore them and focus on what Kiku was saying, but as time dragged on, they only got worse. She swore softly in her native tongue, then sighed and asked Kiku to pause his explanation for a moment while she went to see what was wrong with the idiots this time.

"Be careful, Eliza-san. They may be in a compromising position," Kiku cautioned, though he didn't look worried so much as hopeful.

It didn't take more than a few seconds of listening to confirm Elizaveta's suspicion that they weren't up to their usual activities this time. She listened for a moment, long enough to gather that Roderich sounded jealous and Gilbert was being as bullheaded as usual.

"You could have sent them away!" her step-brother's imperious voice barked from the other side of his door.

"What!? That wouldn't be awesome at all! Come on, babe, you know a real star's going to gather a following pretty quickly. Jealousy isn't cute," Gilbert retorted flippantly. Elizaveta rolled her eyes so hard it hurt; she didn't think Gilbert would have to worry about those things as much as he thought he would. Then again, Roderich did tend to be sensitive. Maybe she'd let him in on how effective frying pans could be against her childhood best friend.

Roderich sputtered indignantly, and Elizaveta realized she would have to intervene soon to keep him from saying something he would regret. The two of them were so stubborn and proud, they probably wouldn't be able to fix things if they broke up.

"You are absolutely _not_ a star!" Roderich shouted finally, "You're just some screw-up who can't seem to stay out of the music room no matter how many times he's told to! You never listen to anyone, do you? You're such a-"

Elizaveta's knock cut him off as effectively as hitting the mute button on the TV. She knew that the moment he and Gilbert started shouting those things at each other may as well have been the beginning of the end.

Roderich opened the door for her, but neither he nor Gilbert looked particularly happy about it. Gilbert sat cross-legged on the bed, his shoulders hunched and a pout on his lips. Roderich, on the other hand, took his time closing the door behind her, not daring to make eye contact with either of the room's other occupants.

Elizaveta stood with her hands on her hips for a moment, looking back and forth between the two of them. Sometimes it was hard to believe they were supposed to be adults, given the way they acted. Finally she let out a sigh, tossing her hair over her shoulder with an imperious shake of her head.

"What's this about?" she asked, trying her best to sound stern. Both boys shifted awkwardly, sharing a glance in a momentary truce. Neither really wanted to come clean about their problems; saying them aloud would make them sound stupid.

"This idiot was flirting with anyone who would look at him earlier," Roderich told her finally, deciding to be the one who spoke up. Gilbert sputtered indignantly in response.

"That's part of the job! I told you, stars—"

"You're not a star!" Roderich repeated, shouting already. Unattractive pink blotches spread over his cheeks, and he looked like he might cry. Elizaveta took pity on him, stepping in.

"If you're going to stress your boyfriend out like this, you need to at least reassure him he's still your number one," she scolded the albino, staring him down. Gilbert flinched under her gaze, his eyes returning sheepishly to Roderich. Elizaveta wasn't done, however, and she reached out to grip his chin and turn his face up towards her again. Taking a deep breath, she added, "You don't have to flirt with a crowd to make them like you, anyway. Just give them some recognition and maybe mention you already have the best guy. Girls are totally weak for that kind of thing, you know."

Gilbert grinned a little and nodded, but Roderich still didn't look convinced. He sniffed haughtily, looking at Elizaveta as if she'd betrayed him. She gave Gilbert a pointed "Fix this" look and patted her step-brother's shoulder as she slipped out of the room, eager to get back to her game and share the details with Kiku.

The two still in the room waited a few minutes to make sure she was gone before turning to each other. Gilbert stood and crossed the room, pulling a protesting Roderich into his arms. The Austrian fought him for every inch, but even in his anger he couldn't help but melt when Gilbert's lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

"Look, Roddy," Gilbert murmured, speaking to the side of his boyfriend's face since Roderich wouldn't look at him, "I didn't mean to upset you, okay? But people finally seemed to be enjoying what I was doing…I got caught up in it. Maybe you don't know what it's like to be ignored and yelled at every time you try to do what you love, since you're perfect and good at everything."

Roderich turned to yell at him again, eyes flashing, but then he realized it was the German's clumsy way of complimenting him. The words died in his throat. For a moment, he studied Gilbert's earnest expression in silence, feeling his anger slip away. Finally, he leaned in to brush his lips lightly over the other's. Gilbert's grinned and pulled Roderich even closer, deepening the kiss.

Roderich was sure the bed was the next step, but then Gilbert pulled away suddenly. Confused, Roderich's gaze flickered up to see excitement shining in Gilbert's eyes. His lover's arms slipped down to take his hands, gripping them excitedly.

"Let's go on a date," Gilbert insisted suddenly, grinning so widely that Roderich was sure his cheeks were beginning to ache.

"What?" Roderich managed after a minute, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"A date," Gilbert repeated, nodding as if to confirm something to himself, "Come on, when was the last time we went? I want to show off my awesome boyfriend.

His voice went a little whiny at the end, and for some reason, Roderich couldn't deny him when he was like this. Those lovely, unpigmented eyes widened pitifully, and the Austrian sighed and nodded.

"Okay, let's go," he agreed heavily, "Where are we going, anyway?"

Gilbert shrugged, and Roderich almost groaned. Of course, he should have known Gilbert didn't have any ideas when he suggested things like this. He couldn't be angry though, not when the other still seemed so excited.

"Let's go get something to eat, and then we can decide what else we want to do," Gilbert suggested, and Roderich had to admit that it was a reasonable idea. He nodded, and Gilbert slipped his hand into the brunet's. Waving to Elizaveta as they passed, he led the way out to his car and opened the passenger's side door for Roderich. As stubborn and hard-headed as he could be, Roderich had to admit he at least had manners.

Gilbert drove them to the little shop where Antonio worked part-time. They'd begun to frequent it, though it was always better when the Spaniard was working. He'd taken up the job recently, deciding that he wanted to be able to buy things for Lovino. Sometimes, Roderich wondered if the Italian was aware that he had Antonio completely wrapped around his finger.

The older brunet wasn't there today, but that didn't deter Gilbert. He ordered their usual tea and pastries, having practically memorized his boyfriend's favorites by now. Roderich sat back and watched him, his expression softening into one that was more affectionate. Even those who had never met them would have no doubts as to what their relationship was if they had glanced over.

Gilbert sat across from him, his fingers tapping idly as he looked out the window. He had never really been one to sit still, and while Roderich normally didn't approve of such restlessness, he couldn't imagine him any other way. He sat with his own hands in his lap, his eyes tracing the line of Gilbert's jaw as if he intended to immortalize it on paper. When Gilbert suddenly turned to him, he blinked in surprise.

"Looks like it's going to rain, huh?" the albino asked, grinning, "Like on our first date…I really wanted to kiss you in the rain, you know?"

Roderich blushed at that and glanced away. He still hadn't gotten used to how open Gilbert could be sometimes. Slowly, he nodded, his gaze sliding back to the other's grinning face.

"Well, I suppose there would be nothing to hold you back if it were to rain today…" he commented, trying to sound as if it was just some meaningless thing crossing his mind. Excitement lit his boyfriend's expression, and warmth washed over Roderich's cheeks in response.

"Awesome…" Gilbert breathed simply, not sure what else to say. Roderich wasn't as pure as he liked to pretend, but such offers—even the ones as innocent as that—were still few and far between.

Their orders came soon after that, and Roderich focused his attention on his tea. Gilbert was more distracted, grinning at the brunet between bites of his Danish. Roderich's cheeks flushed under his gaze, but he couldn't say he didn't like it.

"What are you staring at?" he asked finally, frowning at Gilbert, "I'm not going to do a trick."

Gilbert laughed, the unusual sound sending a little, pleased thrill though Roderich—people didn't usually laugh at the things he said, though he rarely intended to be funny. Gilbert leaned over the table and smiled at him, cutting off that train of thought.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asked, "Maybe I just don't want to take my eyes off my amazing boyfriend. Someone could come along and steal you away, you know."

Roderich rolled his eyes, hiding a smile behind his mug as he took a sip. "I doubt you'd have to worry about that," he replied when he could keep his voice level, "I wouldn't let them, anyway."

Gathering his courage, he leaned across the table to meet Gilbert, kissing him softly. It was the first time they'd kissed in such a public place, but Gilbert's bright grin made it more than worth it.

* * *

As they'd suspected, the clouds did open up before they left the shop. That, of course, led to a tense discussion in the doorway when Gilbert tried to drag Roderich out into the drizzle.

"We'll get sick," the Austrian protested, his feet planted firmly. He knew he wasn't strong enough to resist Gilbert, but the German didn't pull too hard—he wasn't going to force his lover to do anything against his will.

"You said I could kiss you in the rain," Gilbert reminded him, pouting. He gave Roderich's arm another little shake.

"I did not," the brunet protested immediately, scoffing, "I said there was nothing stopping you."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Same thing. Please, Roddy? We'll go home right after, I promise."

Roderich hesitated a moment longer, but that puppy dog expression on Gilbert's face would be the death of him one of these days. He finally relented, letting Gilbert drag him out into the rain. Shivering, he immediately decided that he regretted this decision.

Still, Gilbert seemed too pleased to let Roderich's frown get him down. He dropped the brunet's hand, spinning in a circle like an excited child. Roderich rolled his eyes again, fighting the twitching of his lips that was a sure sign of an oncoming grin.

Eventually, the albino made his way back and slipped his arms around his lover. Roderich let out a squeak as Gilbert dipped him, his eyes flying wide. Before he could protest, the other's warm, chapped lips were on his, and he kissed back impulsively.

"That was uncalled for," he managed finally, breathless, when Gilbert pulled back and brought them upright again. The German didn't look ashamed at all, grinning back at him as he dragged him back to the car.

"Come on, princess," he teased, "Let's get you home before you catch a cold and blame me."

Roderich huffed loudly, but followed without protest. He should have known what he was getting into when he fell for Gilbert anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to make chapters a little bit longer all along, so at least this one clears 2000 words. Hopefully the last 3 can do the same! But yeah, we're almost done and I've got the next few projects lined up if anyone's interested-a short Turkmano, the Prumano secret santa event, and another fic about this length for Framano.


	26. At Least I Can Say I was Not Afraid

Francis stared critically at the flag for several moments, then reached out to straighten it slightly. No, that still wasn't any good. He tried again with much the same result. Frowning to himself, he took a step back and sat on his bed. Nothing he did seemed to help make the flag look less out of place.

For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder if it was simply because the flag was in his room now instead of Jeanne's. She'd always wanted to go back to France, so her parents had given her a flag when her illness returned to remind her of that dream and give her the strength to fight.

A soft sigh escaped the Frenchman's lips, and he finally got up to take the flag down again. He was getting better, but maybe he still wasn't ready for a constant reminder like that. Dropping onto the bed again, he held the flag in both hands for a moment. Now that she was gone, though, maybe he should be the one to make sure he went to France.

Smiling at the thought, he moved to hang the flag again. This time, it didn't look so bad. Sighing with relief, he reached into the box again to pull out a couple books. One was a collection of pictures from the southern countryside of France, and the second was a worn copy of her favorite book. A small smile on his lips, Francis lifted them to his nose to breathe in the rich, familiar scent of well-loved paper. After a few moments, he crossed the room to put the books on his shelf with several similar ones.

The box wasn't empty yet, but Francis decided to talk a break. It was emotionally exhausting to find places for Jeanne's things in his room, though part of him was pleased to know that she'd cared enough to leave them to him.

He moved to the kitchen, making coffee simply to have something to do with his hands. The bitter smell settled heavily in the room, and at the last minute, the blond decided to grab a pastry to go with it.

Just as he was setting the piece of cake on the table, the doorbell rang. He peeked down the hall, confused-he hadn't expected anyone to come by-but the silhouette in the frosted windows didn't look familiar.

He crossed the hall and pulled open the door. A smile lit his face at the sight of Elizaveta waiting on the other side, and he gestured widely for her to come in.

"It's been a while, non?" he asked, leading the way to the kitchen, "I was just about to have coffee and cake. Would you like some?"

She nodded, smiling as she took a seat. He poured a mug for her as well and set out another slice of the cake before taking the seat across from her.

"Sorry to drop in on you like this," she apologized with a small smile, but he waved it away with a grin if his own.

"Don't worry, ma cherie. It's been a while since I've seen your lovely face, anyway."

Elizaveta's cheeks went pink, but she knew what Francis was like. "Hush, you," she told him, waving a hand dismissively, "I didn't come here to talk about myself."

Francis smiled at her response, but waited patiently for her to continue. She sipped her coffee first, nodded in approval, and then finally seemed to get down to business.

"So, Gilbert and Roderich," she began, an amused little grin teasing the corners of her lips, "You must have seen that coming a mile off, huh?"

Francis smiled and sat back in his seat, nodding slowly, "Oui, they were quite obvious," he admitted, "Though I never would have imagined Gilbert of all people would go for someone as uptight as your brother. But then, stranger things have happened, non?"

Elizaveta laughed softly, the light, bubbly sound filling the room pleasantly. Francis found it incredibly soothing, and a part of him wondered why they hadn't spent more time together. It wasn't as if they hadn't known each other long enough, after all.

"You've had another relationship to mother over though, haven't you?" she asked after a moment.

Francis nodded, a somewhat dreamy smile crossing his lips. "Ah, yes...Antonio and Lovino..." he murmured, sounding pleased with himself, "Lovino can be difficult, but I think those two are on the right track now. Last time I saw them, they were curled up on a couch with Lovino's blankets around them."

Elizaveta smiled at the mental image. She'd met Lovino a few times, which was enough to know he was sweet with women and a bit more prickly towards his own gender. Kiku probably would have called him "tsundere." She'd definitely be looking forward to hearing more about his relationship with the Spaniard.

"How are Roderich and Gilbert, by the way?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, "Gilbert's been so wrapped up in his cute little Austrian that he hasn't had time for his friends lately." He pouted, but it was fake-he hadn't exactly been the best company lately, but Antonio and Gilbert had still been there for him. He couldn't have asked for more.

"They're good," Elizaveta assured him with a smile, "I mean, they fight, but what can you expect when they're both so proud? I don't think we'll really have to worry about them, at least not now..." She gave a little nod, as if confirming her own words to herself, and took another sip of her coffee.

"Unless they break up, right?" Francis asked, a knowing little smile lighting his blue eyes, "They're so proud that it would take some help from us to get them back together, non? Though of course we couldn't let them know it was us..."

She laughed and nodded, glad Francis understood her stepbrother and his boyfriend at least as well as she did. Somehow it was reassuring, like she wasn't alone. She smiled at him again, but then they fell silent, focusing on their snacks. Francis finally finished off his cake and sat back, sipping his coffee slowly as he appeared to be deep in thoughts.

"So..." he began finally, "Would you like to go for a walk or something? I think it would be nice to get out and clear out heads for a bit, and maybe work off this wonderful cake." His smile told her is wasn't a comment on her weight, but then, she wouldn't have expected Francis to be nasty about that anyway-it wasn't really his style. "Igen," Elizaveta replied with a smile, then blushed lightly as she realized her native tongue had slipped out, "I mean, yes, please." She smiled, tucking a lock of her thick, golden brown hair behind one ear. Her face practically glowed with excitement, which helped Francis to relax-he always felt best when he was pleasing other people; it was one of the few things he actually had in common with his stubborn Italian cousin.

The two of them stood, brushing off their clothing, though neither one really needed to do so. Elizaveta wrapped her jacket around her, and Francis grabbed his own from a hook in the hall. She thanked him softly as he opened the door and held it for her, that familiar, small smile on his lips.

The skies were already graying as the day crept toward evening, and the smell of rain that had fallen earlier in the day hung heavily in the air. Elizaveta breathed in deeply, a smile on her lips-Roderich had told her about kissing Gilbert in the rain, and now she couldn't help but share the story with the blond next to her. He chuckled, but for a moment, a distant look crossed his face. Elizaveta's heart sank; she'd almost forgotten that he'd just lost someone dear to him. It was funny, really, how much could change when your father dragged you off on a tour of the world with him for a few years.

"I know it's not really my place to ask," the blond began suddenly, making Elizaveta look up at him in surprise, "But I wondered if you had anyone in your life as well? I mean, with Roderich and Gilbert around all the time, you must think about it, non?"

She fell silent, and Francis immediately regretting the question. That had been rude and incredibly forward, and he shouldn't have asked it in the first place. Before he could apologize, she spoke again.

"There's no one I'm interested in, no," she answered finally, shaking her head and giving him a small smile, "Between moving around so much and being afraid that we could leave again at any moment, well...I just thought it was better to not get attached," she admitted.

Francis nodded slowly, as if he understood her reasons despite having lived in the same place since he was three years old. Suddenly he smiled, and Elizaveta raised a brow in curiosity, wondering what he could possibly be so happy about right now.

"I have a proposition," he told her finally, sounding a bit smug and self-assured, "I know you've seen much of the world already, but why don't we take a tour of Europe once we've graduated? Unless you find someone in the next few months, of course. How does that sounds? Those of us who are single can go find someone, non? We'll have no restrictions, though I will make a point of going to France. If you find someone you like, you can take your time with him-or her, of course."

He smiled as Elizaveta continued to stare at him for a moment. Finally, she laughed and nodded, warmth rising in her cheeks at the thought. "Yes, why don't we do that?" she agreed, "It would be a wonderful trip, I'm sure!"

Francis smiled, and, linking their arms, they continued on their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy I'm actually getting this up on time for once! And the next chapter is almost done! Which is a really good thing, since I'll be at a convention this weekend and probably won't be writing a lot...
> 
> If you want to see more from me though, I do take requests either here or on tumblr at sayaleigh~


	27. I Loved You All the Way

Lovino couldn't seem to keep his hands still. His fingers tapped idly on the desk, and he watched the teacher's final steps as she moved up and down the aisles, handing out papers. This was the first test since Antonio had been helping him, and if he failed this...

Antonio smiled encouragingly at him from his seat at the front of the room, but Lovino didn't let his gaze linger on the Spaniard for too long. He already had one thing making him nervous; he didn't need his face going bright red in the middle of class too.

Finally his paper was slipped back to him. Despite the woman's smile, his heart leaped instantly to his throat. He waited until she'd passed, then finally peeked down at his grade.

B+

It wasn't perfect, but then, he'd never expected that. A relieved smile spread over his face, and his head jerked up to finally meet Antonio's eyes. The emerald eyes lit up with joy, and it appeared that the older boy had trouble staying in his seat. Luckily, they were released once she'd finished passing back the papers.

The moment they were out of the room, Antonio threw his arm around the Italian. Lovino pressed into his chest, unable to keep the smile off his face. This time, when Antonio kissed him in the middle of the hallway, he didn't fight it.

"You're going to be fine," Antonio murmured in his ear, and Lovino just nodded. He'd been worried about how he would fare once Antonio graduated in a couple months, but he was sure he'd be okay now.

"Can I go home with you?" he asked suddenly, looking up at the Spaniard. He didn't expect to be denied, and he wasn't disappointed. Antonio grinned and nodded, taking his hand and leading the way to their lockers.

"Hey, how'd it go?" Gilbert asked as they approached, already leaning against the bank of metal doors.

"He aced it!" Antonio chirped happily, making Lovino blush but smile.

"A B. Plus," Lovino corrected quietly, but Gilbert still grinned and ruffled his hair.

"Gonna go celebrate now?" the albino asked, giving them a pointed look. His crimson eyes focused on Lovino, knowing Antonio wouldn't catch on to what he really meant. Lovino blushed and looked up his boyfriend, then gave a shy little shrug. Gilbert's grin widened.

"Sure!" Antonio agreed, oblivious as usual, looking down at Lovino, "Do you want to get ice cream?"

"Maybe later," Lovino replied in a mumble, hyper-aware of the albino's lecherous gaze focused on them.

Antonio blinked in surprise, looking down at the Italian. Normally, Lovino jumped at the offer of sweets. The color of Lovino's cheeks deepened under Antonio's gaze, but he tried not to lose his cool.

"Let's just go, alright?" he asked, tugging gently on the other's arm. Antonio stared for a moment longer, then nodded and grabbed his things.

Antonio babbled the whole way back to his house, but it wasn't until they were in his bedroom that he questioned the younger boy's motives again. He settled on the bed, pulling Lovino onto his lap. The Italian went willingly, straddling Antonio's hips.

"Why didn't you want to get ice cream with me, tesoro?" he asked softly, his bright green eyes shining with worry now.

Lovino rolled his eyes at the question, sighing as if Antonio was trying his patience. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe he'd fallen for someone so oblivious.

"Because I wanted something else," he replied simply, finally pulling Antonio into a deep, firm kiss.

The kind of kiss one might give someone they love before finally giving their body.

* * *

Concert halls weren't exactly Gilbert's usual scene, but he'd promised Elizaveta he would be there. It was a surprise for Roderich, so really, he would've been there even if he hadn't promised. Still, he couldn't help but scowl as he adjusted his tie.

The performance was nearly over, and as Gilbert looked up again, he caught sight of Elizaveta motioning to him from the end of his row. He quickly jumped up and squeezed out past the several people between them, a grin spreading over his face.

She grinned back, leading the way backstage. Gilbert followed her closely, already itching to hold his talented boyfriend in his arms and tell him how wonderful he was. His voice reached them before he came in sight, however, and Elizaveta's frown told him it wasn't anything good.

"As I recall,  _you_  left me," came Roderich's haughty voice the tone he used when he was distressed but wanted to keep his façade in place. Gilbert was familiar with that term.

"I was busy! You know what this kind of thing does to our schedule better than anyone!" an unfamiliar voice replied, sounding somewhere between angry and distressed.

Elizaveta hesitated, but Gilbert rounded the corner to see Roderich standing with his arms crossed, glaring at a shorter man with chin-length blond hair.

"That's Roderich ex, Basch," Elizaveta explained softly, her breath brushing over the shell of Gilbert's ear as she whispered it.

Nodding in understanding, Gilbert swept across the space between them and slipped an arm around Roderich's waist-there was no way he was giving this asshole a chance to gain a foothold in his territory.

Roderich jumped slightly at the touch, having been too caught up in the argument to notice Gilbert's approach, but didn't pull away.

"Besides, I'm with someone else now," he added, speaking to Basch again, "And he's not going to run away with a violin." He knew it was a low blow, but he was still peeved that the Swiss boy had completely disappeared when Roderich had needed him most. Scowling, he took Gilbert's hand and dragged him off the stage, Elizaveta trailing along after them.

The brunette dropped off as Roderich continued to drag Gilbert into the dressing room. It was empty, and as soon as the door closed behind him, the Austrian whipped around and pressed Gilbert against it, kissing him hungrily.

Gilbert blinked in surprise, his eyes widening as his hands settled on Roderich's hips. Normally he would be all about this, but he had a feeling that Roderich's sudden hunger had nothing to do with him. He kissed back, but when Roderich pulled back to breathe, Gilbert pulled him to his chest and settled his chin on the top of the brunet's head instead.

"Wha-? What are you doing?" Roderich asked softly, his resolve already weakening.

"I know what you're doing," Gilbert told him softly, "and believe me, I want you, but not if you're just trying to blow off steam. Let's go home, okay? I'll make you some tea and we'll just watch a movie or something."

Slowly, Roderich nodded, wiping at his eyes as discreetly as possible. His already complex feelings were now further complicated by the relief and gratitude that swirled through him at Gilbert's understanding. He didn't have to prove himself to his lover, a realization that made him almost weak with joy.

* * *

Even now, Francis couldn't help but hesitate at the hospital doors. He wasn't here for a visit this time, but his knees were weak and his hands shook the way they always had when he'd come to see Jeanne. Gathering his courage, the blond Frenchman wiped his hands on his pants and gathered his courage and made his way up to the doors, letting the soft "whoosh" of the automatic doors urge him on.

The woman at the desk looked up, appearing startled to see him. He recognized her; it was the girl who'd been behind the desk on the day he'd arrived to the news that Jeanne had passed away. If he remembered correctly, her name was Claire. She looked surprised to see him, but managed to paste a smile on her bright red lips as she tucked a lock of thick, dark hair behind her ear.

"Mr. Bonnefoy, right?" she asked, leaning forward and propping her chin in her hand, "What can I do for you today?"

He approached and leaned against the counter, smiling back at her with his familiar, charming grin. "Actually, I was wondering if perhaps you could use a hand around here? A volunteer, perhaps," he explained.

Claire's sharp green eyes studied his face for a moment, as if she couldn't believe he was really offering. His blue eyes were clear and steady though, telling her just how serious he was. For a moment, she honestly couldn't understand—he was young and sensitive, and he'd lost someone just a few months ago. Finally, she smiled and nodded.

"There's a volunteer program, yes," she told him finally, "Normally girls join it, and usually in middle school, but I'm sure they would appreciate your seriousness."

The Frenchman grinned at that, pleased, and straightened up a bit. "Is there paperwork or something then?" he asked, brushing his blond hair out of his face, "I'd like to take care of it as soon as I can, if you don't mind."

Claire nodded, disappearing for a moment to gather them up. Francis waited patiently, letting his gaze wander around the lobby. Everything seemed simple and sterile—normally that wasn't his thing, his mother was an artist and his father a chef, so he was used to colorful, hectic spaces. He'd already decided he wanted to be here though, as hard as if might be to be reminded of Jeanne every day.

He could feel Claire watching him as he began to fill out the paperwork. He glanced up at her, a small smile of amusement quirking his lips and making her blush. She glanced away again, and his attention returned to the papers.

"If you don't mind my asking, why do you want to do this?" she asked, taking the flimsy white sheets when he'd finished with them. She glanced through them quickly, nodding in approval—everything was there.

"You remember me, non?" he asked softly, a tiny, sad smile gracing his lips, "You know why I used to come…I just thought that since I had been through it, perhaps I could be of some help to others who might be going through the same troubles."

The blush faded from Claire's cheeks, but she nodded in understanding as her gaze dropped down to the desk again.

"Well, I hope it helps you to be here too," she murmured softly, "You should hear from the director within the week. Have a nice day…Francis." She smiled softly, holding up the papers to explain where she'd gotten his name.

"Et vous, ma belle," he replied with a smile of his own, waving at her briefly as he turned and made his way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this last week and after spending the weekend at a con, I can't remember how to take care of myself, much less whether I checked this over for any mistakes. So yeah, there might be a few things weird; feel free to point them out!
> 
> Next week's the last chapter! See you then~


	28. I'd Pick the Fool Any Day

"So..." Gilbert began suddenly, barely moving from where he was stretched across Antonio's couch, "We're done, huh?"

Only silence greeted his words for a moment, but then Francis nodded slowly. "Oui, we are," he agreed, "It's been an interesting year though, hasn't it?"

The albino grinned at that, turning his head a little so he could see his blond friend, and let out a laugh that might have made more than a few people uncomfortable. Francis and Antonio were used to it though, of course. "Yeah, you can say that again."

"Did Roderich have something else going on tonight?" Antonio asked innocently, peering curiously up at Gilbert. The German snorted indignantly and shook his head.

"What, I can't hang out with my friends without being questioned? Geez, you guys suck."

The other two laughed, and Francis shook his head slightly. "You know what he meant, mon cher," the blond admonished, "But really, I wouldn't have thought the two of you would want to plan your futures together or something."

Gilbert's cheeks went pink at that, and he huffed and looked away. For a moment, insecurity flickered across his expression.

"What's to decide?" he asked stubbornly, "Roddy's got a full ride to Julliard, and I...I dunno, maybe I'll go to community college or something..."

Francis gave him a pitying look, reaching over to pat his hand lightly. Gilbert wanted to scoff at the sympathy, but really, it wasn't unwelcome. He flopped back on the couch, biting back a sigh.

"Yeah, but there's no way he'd forget you, right"?" Antonio asked, oblivious as usual, ""Maybe you could go to a community college in new York or something. I mean, if he's got a full ride he won't have to worry about tuition, and you guys can get a place together or something."

Gilbert groaned, nudging Antonio's heard with the toe of his socked foot. "You live in some kind of dream world, you know that, right?" he asked, pretending to scowl, "I couldn't make Roddy pay for me, anyway. There's no way I could ever pay him back, and there's no way in hell I'm living in debt to my boyfriend forever."

Antonio laughed and ran a hand through his hair, shrugging. "It was just a thought."

"What about you?" Francis asked suddenly, turning the attention to the Spaniard instead, "What are you and Lovino going to do."

Antonio hummed and smiled, appearing perfectly content with whatever solution he and his Italian boyfriend had come up with. Or at least, whatever he'd come up with-Antonio was too easily contented, and Francis couldn't help but think that Lovino might have to give him a push to have any kind of ambition when it came to further education.

"I thought maybe I'd just work full time and stick around here, at least until Lovi graduates," he replied, confirming Francis' suspicions, "Soon enough, maybe I can get a place of my own, and then I'll ask Lovi to move in with me."

"Hey, did you guys ever end up doing the do?" Gilbert broke in suddenly, as if that topic was much more interesting than whatever his friend's future might hold.

Even Antonio went red at that, the color clashing awkwardly with his tanned cheeks. Gil!" he whined, pouting, "Don't ask about that! You should be more concerned with your own boyfriend!"

Despite his protests, the little grin that spread over his face told the others the answer, and Francis chuckled knowingly while Gilbert smirked triumphantly. "Elizaveta so owes me twenty bucks," he crowed, "She thought you guys would at least wait until graduation."

While Antonio sputtered, Francis ignored them and reached for his cell phone. "Lovino's working tonight, non?" he asked, already halfway through dialing the number of the pizza parlor where the younger Italian worked, "Let's order something-We need to eat, and what kind of friends would we be if we didn't give you an excuse to see your cute little beau?"

Antonio seemed excited by the prospect and nodded, sitting up straight. He didn't need to tell Francis what he wanted; they ordered the same thing every time. Instead, he checked his own phone, wondering if Lovino had gotten a chance to text him while he was working. Sure enough, there was a message scolding him to make sure he ate with his friends instead of getting caught up in video games or something.

"Aw, how sweet," Gilbert teased, reading the message over his shoulder. Antonio just laughed and pushed him away, replying with a promise that they would be getting phone food soon and that he would see him soon.

Francis had finished his call before Lovino texted back. Antonio couldn't help but laugh at the message, grinning as he showed it to the others.

[TEXT] You asshole

"I think he caught on to us," the Spaniard laughed, pulling the phone back to himself to text back a sappy reply.

It didn't take long for Lovino to reach them. Personally, Antonio suspected he had bumped their order to the top of his list, though he knew Lovino would deny it if asked.

"Hey," the Spaniard greeted cheerfully, taking the box from his boyfriend's hands and slipping an arm around him instead. Lovino protested weakly, something about how his boss would yell at him if he took too long and let the other pizza's get cold, but it didn't take much for him to be convinced to lean comfortably into Antonio's embrace. Gilbert slipped past them to see that Elizaveta and Roderich were already out on their porch, but Lovino and Antonio barely took note of him except to shift slightly out of his way and Francis', since the Frenchman was close on his heels.

"Have you been busy tonight?" Antonio asked after a moment, gently tilting Lovino's face up toward him and admiring the way the mixture of moonlight and light from the streetlights lit up the different planes of his aristocratic face.

"It's the first weeks after graduation, what do you think?" Lovino snorted in reply, though he sounded less fiery than when Antonio had first taken notice of him. He smiled at the thought, his grip tightening slightly as he realized-not for the first time-how happy he was to be able to hold Lovino in his arms now.

The Italian noticed that chance and let out an embarrassed noise that Antonio wanted to squeak over for a moment. He resisted the urge, of course; that would only make Lovino leave sooner.

"What's up with you?" Lovino asked, his voice barely more than a mumble. Without looking, Antonio could tell the younger brunette was blushing.

"Just thinking," Antonio replied vaguely, accompanying the words with a nonchalant hum.

"That's always dangerous," Lovino snorted, but he didn't push the matter. After a moment, he reluctantly pulled back, glancing around for any excuse to stay a bit longer.

"Anyway, "I should probably get going...You still need to pay me though..."

Antonio laughed and nodded, disappearing into the house, w. While he was gone, Lovino glanced around, taking in the group his sort of felt like a part of now.

Gilbert and Roderich had met between the two houses, and the brunet was obviously trying to give his lover an earful. Gilbert, on the other hand, didn't seem to be listening, more concerned with trying to distract Roderich from his tirade by planting little kisses across Roderich's face and neck. "Lovino had to admit, the guy was persistent. Both were, really, because Roderich was still ranting every moment his lips weren't claimed by Gilbert's.

His eyes caught Francis', which glowed knowingly in the dark, and for a moment he let himself share in a moment of amused acknowledgement with his cousin. When Antonio returned, the connection broke, and Francis turned away with a small chuckle.

All Francis had ever really wanted in his life was love. He'd had a taste of it, or something like it, but now that it was gone, he didn't feel as deprived as he had expected himself to feel. Still a little numb, maybe, but that was as bad as it got. He liked seeing his friends in love though.

Gilbert and Roderich were likely to have a messy relationship, but if they were both committed to it, he was sure they could make things work. Gilbert seemed like a scatterbrained idiot sometimes, but he was clean and usually knew what he was doing. From Elizaveta, Francis had learned that Roderich tended to be quick to tire and borderline lazy. Francis suspected that Gilbert would end up cleaning up after Roderich while the Austrian focused on his music.

Despite Lovino's difficult personality, Francis thought they might have an easier time of things. Lovino was hard on himself, but with Antonio's support, he would be able to do anything he set his mind to. Antonio would probably stick to something simple, but even if neither of them were particularly ambitious, they would have a good life.

Francis leaned back against the railing, letting his eyes wander up to the sky. The stars sparkled against the velvety black backdrop, looking a little closer than they did at the apartment Francis' family lived in. He let out a pleased sigh, an unfamiliar sense of relaxation spreading through him.

"I'll be alright," he promised, his voice so soft that no one would be able to hear him. He expected Jeanne would be about to hear him. He felt better saying it, like it would be truer. Slowly, a smile spread over his lips.

Finally Lovino left, and Roderich went back inside with Elizaveta. Francis and Gilbert followed Antonio back into his house, the albino and brunet arguing about what game they should play already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't edited/revised nearly as much as I would like, but I figured I should get it out since I've been working on the next fic already anyway. If anyone wants to beta a smutty historical Turkmano fic, I'll love you forever!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me~
> 
> ~Saya

**Author's Note:**

> This is the part where the lonely author begs for reviews.


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